


If You Don't Want To Love Me

by etherealmindss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Scott and Malia, asshole stiles may or may not make an appearance, ghost riders, lydia martin - Freeform, malia tate - Freeform, not sure if there will be romantic stydia, scott McCall - Freeform, scott and malia catching the feels, season 6, stiles stilinski - Freeform, stiles will be forgotten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealmindss/pseuds/etherealmindss
Summary: This takes place after 5b, going into season 6. Stiles is about to be taken by the Ghost Riders. But in the mean time, through untimely fate and waves of confusion, Scott finds himself utterly and hopelessly at the mercy of his growing feelings for Malia.





	1. How Far We've Come

Scott POV: Maybe it was just a moment, a slip of time... Or maybe it had been building for a while now. All I know is that when I think about Malia, all I can remember is how sad she was. It didn't fit her, you know?

Malia had a pretty smile. That was probably the first thing I had noticed about her.

It's been about four months since Kira left. We tried to make it work... God did we try. But she felt like it was selfish holding onto me, keeping me accountable to an unfathomable number of days until we could be together again. So when I went back to see her for the last time for who knows how long, she kissed me: soft and sweet, just like her. She made me promise to not wait for her and to make my own happiness.

"Take care of them" She had said. "And... Take care of Malia, Scott. She's going to need you." With those parting words, she let go of my hands and kept her eyes locked on mine until she disappeared into a cloud of sand.

Gone.

Bye Kira...

I catch my mind going back to Malia often before I remember that she's in love with my best friend. It's hard because I think about "us" a lot. Even when "us" doesn't even really exist. I don't even know when I started seeing her differently, but I remember feeling this sense of opia fill me when I saw her standing there in Deaton's clinic. She stood tall and looming like an avenging angel under the lights covered in her own blood with a lone bullet hole in her stomach. I learned that Theo had betrayed her and practically led her to her death like a cat that caught the canary. But he'll pay for it... Man will he pay for it.

And as soon as she turned her head I felt this great weight on my chest, like that lead feeling in your bones after you come to a startling realization. Her eyes struck me so hard, you'd think they were made of lightening. She'd always been that way: hard and cold or soft and warm. There was no in between or half-assing it with her. Malia is an all or nothing type of girl, and maybe that is why her and Stiles didn't work out.

And something about her in that moment bewitched me. And now every time that I shut my eyes at night, her brown eyes wash over me like a rainstorm. I swear she can see right through me, always so calculated and crafty. Her pupils glitter when she's concentrated, honing in on the sights and sounds around her. Maybe that's how she's gotten so much out of me, all my secrets and hopes and dreams of life after the last ruins of Beacon Hills.

Within those months after the Beast, we had gotten to know each other better. Her ability to just sit there and listen goes deeper than I thought possible. One night she came over late to just hang out and do some homework together. Eventually ditching the school work, we just began to talk. And talk. And talk.

And about what you may ask?

Just about everything the human language could possibly muster up in the form of questions and answers. And she'd just sit there as I spoke, her eyes invasive and bottomless, drinking in every word that left my lips.

I told her about Kira and how every second that I thought about her broke my heart a little more each time. And I talked about the pack, how I'm afraid to let them down. We'd come so close to losing so many more of our friends and I just can't stand the crippling fear of losing another. I vented to her about college, and how I had missed the deadline on this scholarship application that I had been stressing over. I want to be a vet so bad, and she encourages me to try again.

You're the strongest person I've ever known, Scott." She had said, rolling over to face me before turning over to lay on her back. She stared absently at the ceiling and I waited for her to speak. I could tell she wanted to talk about it. She needed to talk about Stiles and how much the break up hurt her, but she stayed quiet. That's the thing about learning to be human, we try to hide our feelings, but we forget that our eyes speak too. But she did talk about other things.

Malia is actually very smart for only being human for so long. She had always been perceptive of other people's anxiety and harnessed this innate ability to always know what you were thinking. One thing about Stiles that had always bothered her was facing the reality that while he was fine with calling her his girlfriend, letting her take on dangerous obstacles, make her own decisions and heck... Even have sex with her, he still thought of her as a child in some ways. He sometimes made her feel like she was helpless and inadequate... Not able to function with the mature balance of normal human thought. "It's progress" could sometimes come out condescending, even if he hadn't meant it that way. Or "she likes pizza" as a way of drawing attention away from that fact that it was actually deer. But I guess he felt like he needed to do that so she seemed more human, normal. She had been fine with simply brushing that stuff off, until she wasn't.

But what no one else knew about Malia is that she loves to read. Even 'till this day I have never mentioned it to her, but I had caught glimpses of her in the library after lunch on her off period, a new book in her hand with the passing days. But it was almost as if she were inhaling the words. She would run her fingers across the text, caressing them with her eyes, and mouthing the words to herself just to have a taste of what they felt like on her tongue. Sometimes I would just watch her for a little while, seeing her so unbothered by the other people around her.

So when Malia does open up to me about things, she will talk about the world as if she's lived a thousand lives, a strange and unique theory for how the world should work as opposed to how it actually does. And it's weird to experience her this way, considering she's barely even lived much of her life as it is now. Human.  
She talks about life in a way that I've never really thought about, in ways that I could never understand. I wouldn't say that she romanticizes the act of living, but she speaks in such a way that begs for you to listen.

I don't know what to say for myself. After a while, those homework hang outs turned to movie nights or morning jogs and sometimes late night drives or 3 am phone calls.  
And in that time I felt this overwhelming curiosity to know everything about her. Who she was before Stiles? Who would she become after him? How does she cope with knowing that Stiles and Lydia may or may not have feelings for each other? Does she still think about Kira, too?

All of these questions and so many unknown answers.

But what I've been wondering most of all...

What will she do with that year's worth of wasted love she had stored in her heart? Will she let it consume her, bleed her out, and leave her crying every night for his best friend who didn't love her enough to stay?

Would she push me away if I told her the truth?

That I've started to like her, that I like her a lot. Would she shy away from the news that I've come to rely on her presence, whether that be her sitting next to me at the lunch table, being my helping hand when I need some advice for the younger group, or just coming over with pizza and bad comedy movies when I'm feeling lonely?

And will Stiles ever forgive me for it if she doesn't?


	2. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I dive in at the deep end  
> You become my best friend  
> I want to love you but I don't know if I can  
> I know something is broken  
> And I'm trying to fix it  
> Trying to repair it  
> Any way I can"
> 
> \- The X & Y, Coldplay

Malia focuses on the rhythmic heartbeats that circle the classroom. It became a thing of hers, stopping and listening, just to put her focus into something else instead of the thoughts that swim around in her head. She couldn't drown them out completely though, unfortunately.

The bell rang, signaling the next period. She shoots out of her seat and makes a beeline for the door, finding herself outside in a matter of seconds. Malia had been like this lately, always feeling as though she's out of breath. Being outside with the calming affects of nature surrounding her made her feel somewhat normal again.

But what she didn't anticipate was the hollow feeling in her chest as she walks in on a intimate moment between Stiles and Lydia talking closely together near the far end of the lot. Stiles is leaning into her, his eyes engaged in every move she makes. Lydia has a smile on her face and her eyes sparkle when he looks at her. They don't even notice her standing there.

Malia feels anger course white hot through her veins, which then bleeds into resentment, and then finally dulls into an aching sadness. She begins to turn her head away just as Stiles' gaze trails unexpectedly over to meet hers. His familiar caramel eyes hold hers for a lingering moment until she breaks eye contact. She immediately feels the loss of the warmth that bloomed in her chest whenever he'd look at her. These days she spends her time avoiding his gaze more than anything. They're still friends, but some heart breaks are harder to swallow, especially first loves. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and feels her eyes mist over with unshed tears, but she quickly wipes them away before he can see. Malia runs her fingers through her hair and lets out a huff, annoyed at herself and how he still has an effect on her.

She feels a heavy hand on her shoulder and looks up and sees a pair of warm brown eyes peering back into hers. They belong to someone else who has also been on her mind a lot these days.

"Hey Scott." She greets him with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Scott can sense her distress and thinks of all the ways she must be blaming herself for Stiles falling back into his Lydia fixation. "You know it wasn't your fault, right? You didn't do anything wrong. Some people just don't realize what they have right in front of them." He says, nodding his head towards the couple that are now aware of the two of them standing there.

"Yeah yeah, I know..." Malia mumbles, making patterns in the ground with her combat boot.

"Are you okay, Mal?" He asks concerned, hooking his finger underneath her chin and lifting her up to meet his eyes.

She gives him a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, Scott, I promise. I just... miss him, you know?" She admits reluctantly, intertwining her fingers with his. She meets his gaze again. "But I think I'm going to be okay again soon." She finishes with a conspiratorial vagueness in her voice. She squeezes his hand and leans into his shoulder, loving his natural, earthy aroma that always puts her at ease. His arms cocoon around her with the sweetness of her favorite sweater and she steadies her breathing to match the rhythm of his heart beat. She had come to love the easy lull of solace that she felt around Scott. Sure, he is her alpha and it's understandable that he's able to ground her. But there is something about Scott that only he can provide. There's something in the way that his fingers caress her back and the way he whispers reassurances in her ear that make her wonder what it would be like to be his girl.

He's her own personal brand of morphine with an addictive quality.  
Scott had become her crutch over the past couple of months, always there to catch her when she slips away for a while. She knows that whatever she tells him is in confidence and while Stiles is his best friend, he would never share her secrets with him. He had become good at making her laugh, like really laugh. They'd been in the library once during their free period that they share together and overheard this poor boy failing miserably to ask this girl on a date. Gregory, his name had been, possessed the worst pickup lines known to man. Malia remembers the boisterous, breath-stealing laughter that erupted out of her when Scott began making up some cheesy lines of his own, reciting them to her in a goofy manner.

It had become their thing.

They walk back into the school hand-in-hand, something that had become comfortable for both of them and didn't immediately scream romantic.  
At least that's what Scott had told Stiles when he questioned him about it a couple weeks back.

Most people didn't ask questions or stare for too long before Malia's eyes would flash hotly in a dangerous warning. This usually kept people's mouth shut before their bogus comments or judgments slipped out. Scott was her friend, and she can damn well hold his hand as she pleases. Everyone else could fuck off.

And that is the exact response Liam got when he didn't heed her warning and tried to joke about how "coupley" they looked together. That earned him a slap on the head from Hayden and an eye roll from the others. If Stiles had been uncomfortable with the offhanded comment, he didn't say anything, just merely coughed to clear the awkward silence that followed.

"Malia, I have a new line for you, and I think it's my best one yet." Scott says excitedly, a glowing smile lighting up his whole face.

"Is it highly inappropriate?" Malia asks, quirking an eyebrow at his giddy smile and returns it with one of her own.

"Extremely... But not untrue." He says with a shrug and shit-eating expression, waiting for her to ask what it is.

"Alright, McCall, lay it on me." She says casually, but really she's curious about what it is this time.

Scott coughs to clear his voice. "Ahem, okay. So Malia, my favorite Jello, which is raspberry by the way, jiggles almost as much as that ass!" He exclaims, throwing his head back in laughter at her stunned face. His face blushes red partly in amusement and also in embarrassment as he bends over with his hands on his knees and continues to chuckle to himself.  
Malia's tinkling laughter echos through the halls. "Scott! Oh my god, you're terrible!" She swats him playfully on the shoulder and pinches his side which earns her a rewarding "ouch!"

"Okay, okay, my turn." She says. She brings her fingers up to rub her chin in contemplation. "You smell like trash. Can I take you out?" She grins slyly with a wink, giggling uncontrollably at this gaping expression on his face.

Malia closes his mouth with her index finger, delighted at his speechlessness.

"Hey Mal, I was thinking. Do you want to grab some pizza later? Maybe go to a movie or something... We could see that one thriller that you've been talking my ear off about." He rambles out nervously, trying to gauge her reaction.

She stares at him oddly. "You mean how we usually do? Like two friends hanging out, or like... a date?" She asks curiously, looking him straight in the eye.  
Scott can feel his palms begin to sweat. He's afraid to clarify that he was in fact talking about a date, considering he was trying to be subtle in his way of asking her. He didn't want to run her off by being too pushy. Besides he still needed to talk to Stiles about his growing feelings for his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it's best if he waits to ask her...

"Yeah, as friends..." He says, shifting backwards awkwardly from foot to foot.

Malia frowns at his change in demeanor.

Why is he acting so weird... And why does his chemo signals smell so funny...?

Malia wonders if it's bad that she actually feels disappointed with his answer.

"Okay, yeah sounds good. Does 7 o'clock sound okay?" She asks, trying to keep the chagrin out of her voice.

Why did she want Scott to ask her out on date? They're just friends... Best friends. That's all, right?

But she can't help but notice how attractive he looks when he smiles or the way his eyes light up when he sees her walking down the hall. The primal side of her is turned on by the animal she gets a faint glimpse of when Scott shifts into his wolf form. His red eyes command attention and her coyote purrs at the thought of him dominating her.

Damn.

There she goes again. She caught herself with these thoughts more than once. Dirty, uncharacteristic thoughts about Scott that make her feel hot and bothered when she thinks too long about him. Those feelings begin pouring out of her like an overflowing sink and she wonders if he notices but it too polite to say anything about it.

Bless him.

"I'm gonna go. I'll see you later?" She reiterates to make sure he hasn't changed his mind.

"Okay, bye Mal." He says.

He watches her as she turns and leaves and can't help the excitement that shoots down his spine at the thought of seeing her tonight.


	3. Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Fading Through By Wafia feat. Vancouver Sleep Clinic

The flash of the camera goes off and Malia steps up to take her class picture. She usually didn't make a big fuss about things like this but it was her first and last yearbook photo of high school. She had come too late into junior year to have one made and today marked a key milestone in her life. She had survived senior year so far and this little memento will mark a big change in her as a person. Little by little, things were starting to get easier.

With lots of practice and her new powers, she had managed to master the shift. The first time she shifted back into her coyote alter ego, she stood boundless and free on all fours and ran as fast as she could through the hooded greenery of the trees. Blurs of greys, blues, and emeralds swam together before her eyes like watercolors blending together, painting the woods in a vivacious richness. Here she felt one with nature, something she had lost touch with a while ago. Everything was so fast and exhilarating. The chirping of crickets filled the noise in her head and water droplets fell against her fur coat. Her vision was sharper, the smells were more versatile and intense, and the dust particles in the air glittered in the glory of her surreal, blue eyes.  


Malia had actually disappeared for a week after that, almost completely forgetting about all of it: Scott, Lydia, Liam, Mason, Hayden, Corey... Stiles. Her mind went back and forth in a mercurial frenzy. This is what she had always wanted... To feel the dirt squish between her paws, the warming comfort of the fur against her skin, and the sweet reprieve of laying in her den once again. She had considered it: she could stay there, this way, forever. She wouldn't have to go back to her life and be bound by silly, human conventions. She wouldn't have to deal with math, supernatural disasters, ex-boyfriends, college, or the awkward realization that she may have feelings for her exes' best friend. Life could o back to being exactly as it was before, a requiem of a dream.

But a nagging sensation beat at the back of her head, reminding her... pulling her back to home. To her friends.

To Scott.

She couldn't abandon him. Scott was the one person in her life who never gave up on her. He showed her that there is more to life than just running, no matter how good it feels. Fighting her instincts was always her weak point. She went against her impulses to rip her mother to shreds, saving Deaton instead. She fought against every minuscule part of her that desired to rip Stiles' face apart and crush his delicate bones between her hands at Lydia's lake house last year. She tried so hard to fake a smile every time on the rare occasion that her and Stiles were alone together. She really, really tried not to resent Lydia for falling in love with him, even if she herself didn't realize it. But Malia knew, you can't fabricate that sort of thing.

And she couldn't have done these things without Scott.

When Stiles managed to interrupt her photo for the umpteenth time, Malia huffed and growled under her breath, grabbing him by the collar of his red and blue flannel and pulled him over to the others watching on in amusement. Lydia gave her a smile but her eyes lingered on Stiles with endearing annoyance, a look that Malia has gotten used to.

Scott meets her eyes and they light up in a silent hello, causing the corner of her lips to quirk up faintly.

"So who's trying to go with me to Alex's house?" Stiles asks enthusiastically, meeting her eyes in question before shifting his gaze to Lydia and Scott.

"I have to retake my photos, no thanks to you. So count me out." She waves her hand dismissively, turning to grab her math book out of her bag.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to sit this one out." Lydia sighs with an arched brow and a sassy pucker of her lips, turning her eyes back to her perfectly manicured nails.

Scott gestures down to his notebook. "Psyche paper." Is all he says, before he receives an incredulous look from Lydia and Stiles.

He looks over at Malia and a soft grin crosses her face before she blushes and brings her attention back to her book, cutely embarrassed. He can tell that he had impressed her.

heart swells with pride knowing that she's proud of him.

Now if only he could get her to look at him like that without looking away.

 

Stiles stumbles through the hallways, searching for one recognizable face.

He sees Mason, Liam, and Hayden standing together in a huddle and rushes over to them in a panic. "Guys, you'll have to get out of her, they're coming! Where is Scott? You'll need to stay with either him or me."

The trio gawk at him with dumbfounded expressions and blank eyes.

"Do we even know him?" Hayden whispers in Liam's ear, scooting closer into his side.

"Does he even go here...?" Liam nudges Mason, eyes shifting back and forth between him and Stiles.

Mason coughs. "Uh, dude. Do you- do you even go to this school?"

Stiles stares back in silent worry. It had already gotten to them... They don't remember him.

He doesn't waste any time answering their questions, knowing it won't be any use. He turns on his heel down the hallway and ignores them calling after him. Pulling out his phone as he paces the tile floor, he finds Scott's number and presses the dial button. He has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, chewing on it nervously as he waits for Scott to pick up.

"Hello"

"Hey! Scott, okay listen. The ghost riders have gotten to me. Liam, Hayden, Mason... They've already started forgetting. They don't remember me..."

"Who... Is this?"

And with those three small insignificant words, Stiles Stilinski's world significantly shatters.

His voice cracks and he feels his throat begin to close up as he chokes on tears.

"Hey uh, look buddy. I know you don't know what I'm talking about but um- just, just promise me you'll look out for them, okay? Can you do that for me- and uh-"

Stiles pauses and thinks of all the things he wants to say, all the things he regrets not doing before. He wishes he had told Scott that he loved him more, especially earlier today. He had wanted to tell him so bad, but he didn't realize it would be their last time together for a while, possibly ever. He wishes he had sorted things out with Lydia, talked to her more about every thing that had gone on between them. They were in this awkward limbo where he wasn't sure if they were just friends or something more. And then her, Malia. His single, greatest fuck up. He had failed her in so many ways, more than he could count. He wishes he had been a better boyfriend to her, a better friend. If he could go back and do it all over, he would. They'd been tip-toeing around each other, never really talking about what happened between them, or what didn't happen. He's missed her, more than she'll ever know. And believe it or not, he had loved her... Differently than how he had ever loved anyone else. Lydia may have been his first love, but Malia had been the first girl to love him back, and that means something to him. He had let things get messy between them, never really resolving anything. He had jumped back into his old, confusing feelings for Lydia and never really took time to mourn their relationship. And it hurts so bad knowing that soon, he'll just be an empty space in her heart and mind. He'll cease to exist, all their memories disappearing with him into an oblivious pit of nihility. And that realization hurt so bad.

"Scott, take care of the pack while I'm gone." He's about to hang up, but stops himself before he can end the call. "Protect her, okay? Don't let her lose control. Be there for her and keep her grounded." He whispers, clutching the phone in his shaking hand.

"Protect who?" Scott asks.

"Malia. Protect Malia, Scott." He pleads and hangs up the phone before he starts crying. In his anger, he launches the phone at the wall, watching it shatter and clatter to the ground in pieces. His body is vibrating in anxiety and his head is constantly on the swivel as he meanders through the halls, searching for anyone he can find.

He rounds the corner and runs straight into none other than Malia.

She clutches his arm and pulls him forward into a hug. "Stiles, it's happening, isn't it? Lydia was talking about it. The ghost riders are here and their coming for you. You don't have much time. One second she's explaining everything to me and then the next second she stops talking completely with this glazed look in her eye. I asked her what she was going to say, when were they coming for you. And she just looked at me with this eerily vacant expression and said "What the hell is a Stiles?'" Malia says which a worried crease in her brow.

Stiles wanted to smooth out the crease with the pad of his thumb, but it isn't time for that.

"Malia, I don't have time to explain, but we have to go! Hurry, they'll be here any minute now!" He yells, grabbing her hand and racing out the front doors of the school.

The moon is high and the sky is dark, flipping from day to night in what seemed like a blink of an eye. Stiles heart beats heavy in his chest and he's spooked by his own shadow. Malia squeezes his hand harder and he's never been more grateful for her strength then in that very moment. He was shaking and scared and the feel of her cool hand in his eased his mind, ever so slightly.

Stiles jeep is the only car left in the parking lot and the two race towards it and find shelter inside. He still clutches Malia's cold hands between his warm ones and turns her head to look at him.

"Malia, I have to say some things to you before this is all over, okay? I need you to focus on me however you have to." He says gently, and he takes a breath when her dark brown eyes meet his.

"I was a shitty boyfriend. I was the worst kind of person and I made you feel like you weren't good enough and that's on me-" He begins.

"Stiles-" She tries to interrupt.

"No, no Mal, let me finish. I only have a little bit more time, but you need to hear this. I was an asshole. I know that, you know that. Everyone knows that. I should have been a better friend, a better pack mate, a better lover. You trusted me to be there for you and I let you down. I left you behind when I swore I wouldn't."  
Malia's eyes fill with unshed tears and he wipes one away that falls freely down her face.

His voice grows softer. "It wasn't fair to you. Everything was crazy and got shot to hell. I didn't know how to talk to you anymore and I convinced myself that I could be happy without you. I missed out on you, the girl of a lifetime. The kind of girl that guys way smarter than me write songs about. You always kept me on my toes and my heart racing and I just want you to know that I'm going to miss this." He gestures between the two of them, running his fingertips down her temple and cups her cheek. Her chocolate eyes bore deep into his own and he remembers why he fell for them the first time around.

"You're going to forget this... You're going to forget me..." He states, brokenly. It wasn't a matter of if, but a matter of when.

"How could I ever forget you? It won't feel the same, I know it. I'll feel something missing." She speaks through those gorgeous, pink lips. And he can't help but stare at her, memorizing the curve of her cheek and the silkiness of her hair.

"Find some way to remember me. Remember that you're the first girl that I ever fell asleep with in my arms. Remember that you are the one who saved me and showed me what it's like to love and to be loved in return. And... Remember that I will always care for you, even if we're not together and even if we're far, far away from each other."

"I will, I promise. I'll bring you back... I'll bring you home." Malia cries and launches into his arms, clinging to every piece of him that she could. She inhaled his airy scent and ran her hands over the fabric of his shirt while laying her head on his shoulder.

"Tell Scott and my dad that I love them, okay? You have to fight. And know that I'll always be with you." He vows, talking quietly into her ear as he smooths her hair to calm her down.

The door to the jeep goes flying open abruptly and Stiles is ripped from her arms as his limbs fly out from underneath him. He's being pulled further away from her and Malia attempts to fight them off. She lunges out of the jeep and round-kicks the first rider, knocking him off his horse. She claws at the other, drawing a green gooey liquid, and gasps for breath when the third one's lasso shoots out and wraps around her throat, cutting off her air supply.

"Malia!" Stiles yells, but he's too far away now. His voice echos through the night and rings in her ears like listening to a heartbeat. The ghost rider lets her go with a flick of his wrist and the rope around her neck loosens until Malia falls slack against the cement. Rain beats down on her body like a million tiny licks to her skin, burning her the more and more it falls. Her body is soaked from head to toe and she lays sprawled out on the pavement, staring absently up into the sky that continue it's assault. Rain pellets cling to her lashes and her face feels frozen in place. The last thing she remembers is the sound of her own voice as she whispers the words over and over...

Remember... Remember... Remember...

 

The sun shines proudly over Beacon Hills and Malia wakes to the feeling of foreign arms wrapped around her waist. She hears a soft snoring from behind her and she turns and finds a boy in her bed. Something about their position feels wrong. She flips him over and she is now the big spoon, cuddling him close into her naked chest. Suddenly, she's hit with a nauseating sensation of deja vu and pulls away from him, getting out of the bed. Something about this felt... Off. Oddly wrong. Like she'd done this before... But she quickly dismisses the thought. She definitely would remember if she's been with this guy before and since he's new to town and Malia doesn't usually make it a habit of hooking up with random guys, it must be nothing.

Right... She forgot about him. Nathan, isn't it? Too much alcohol does that to a girl. Lydia had convinced her to go with her to this party that some guy on the lacrosse team was throwing. She had taken 10 shots, had two goes at a whiskey bottle, and a hit of fireball before a delicious buzz began to set into her stomach and her libido to kick into overdrive. Feeling flowy and loose to her surrounding, Malia had snagged up the cute, new guy who had asked her to dance. She remembers dragging her nose up his neck leading to his pulse point and leaving a bruised purple mark right where he had liked it.

And now there he lays, still here, and taking up all the covers which she did not find amusing. She shot a quick text to Lydia, asking for advice on how to kick him out. Lydia responded almost immediately, telling her to lie and say that she was getting back together with an old boyfriend. In order to make this more believable, she called up Scott in the privacy of her bathroom and begged him to come over and play the part of her so-called "ex-boyfriend"

About fifteen minutes later, a knock to her door had her up and about, leaving a still snoring Nathan in her bed. Her and Scott made a show of fake-arguing right outside her door, causing a loud enough noise that Nathan woke up and came to check on her.

"Malia, hey... What's going on-" He stops and quiets when he sees Scott standing by her side with his arm around her waist. His big, warm hand rubs small circles on her hipbone and Malia gets a little lost in the feeling. She remembers that she has a part to play and turns to Nathan.

"Nathan... This is Scott, my ex-boyfriend. And he's the-"

"Captain of the lacrosse team." Scott finishes for her with an intimidating scowl on his face as he leers at the poor boy stuck in the door way.

"Right, yeah I'm the... New guy." Nathan mumbles out, already embarrassed and slightly terrified that he just shacked up with his new team captain's girl.

Scotts eyes flash dangerously in Nathan's direction. "I suggest you leave. And I would make it a priority to stay out of my sight for the next few weeks... Or the rest of the year. If you know what's good for you." He threatens, squeezing Malia's hip possessively.

The show of authority makes Malia's skin hot with excitement and she curls her hands into fists as she fights a breathy moan from leaving her lips. She liked the safeness she felt being in Scott's tan, muscular arms.

"I'll- I'll just be going now." Nathan squeaks, moseying on past them with skittish movements, as if Scott would reach out and snap his neck if he made the wrong move or so much as breathed in Malia's direction.

What's even worse is that Scott felt like doing just that.

When Malia had called and told him what was going on, he had felt jealously course through his veins. Scott and her were best friends, had been since she's turned back human. He'd been dating Kira at the time and he had loved her. However, he'd kept Malia in the back of his mind, storing her away to a place that he couldn't see her. He went so long trying to not notice her, but deep down he's always had a soft spot for her. Even with Kira gone, his feelings stayed tempered and muted as she didn't seem to return them. Malia is a wild-spirited, free-falling soul. She couldn't be tamed. She is a wanderess without direction. She didn't believe in settling down and the wind was her map through life, carrying her to far away places that no one else could follow. She had a tendency to disappear sometimes, whether literally or inside her own head, taking a trip to another life in another city. She ghosted in and out of reality, but Scott was always there, caught in her skin when she was lost. Somehow, she always found her way back home and Scott was the first to welcome her into his arms.

"Thanks Scott, you're a life-saver. You actually seemed believable back there. You know, it was kind of hot the way you got all territorial over me. Maybe I've been overlooking the golden boy all along." She says lightly with enchantment dancing in her eyes as she walks around in one of his shirts that he'd let her borrow at some point over the course of their friendship. It falls about mid-thigh and exposes her long, naked legs to his predatory eyes. It's hopeless, she knew what she was doing to him.

"It's not like I'm just sitting around waiting for you or anything..." Scott murmurs, lifting his eyes to meet hers. She can tell that she's struck a nerve and the playful sparkle in her eyes goes out as she takes his hand and pulls him over to the window sill.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She says hurriedly, afraid he'll finally realize that she isn't worth his time and leave her all alone. That's what she's used to, people leaving. Her mom and sister left her, unwillingly, but they're still dead. Death is a form of abandonment, and Malia felt the loss every morning when she woke up without them. Her dad is rarely at home, not accustomed to deal with his eighteen year old daughter in the broken home where his family used to be whole. So this is what Malia does, pushes people away. She has commitment issues and never stays in one place for too long. She knows that Scott is the one person who has always saw her for what she is and still loved her with all her flaws included. She selfishly wanted to keep him close, but at a safe distance. People have the power to hurt you, and she couldn't risk losing him. That's why she won't let herself feel anything but the fleeting gratification of a random guy's mouth on her skin and the hollow numbness of the cigarette that sits loosely between her lips. That's the expanse of what she allows, nothing more nothing less.  
Scott puts his arm around her shoulder and she instantly melts into his embrace, easily relating the feeling to coming home after a long day and wrapping up in a warm blanket.

"I don't want you to feel bad for me, Mal. It's not your responsibility to tip-toe around my feelings. I don't want you walking on eggshells around me. You know you'll always be my girl. I'm just waiting for the day you realize that you don't have to give your time or your body to people who aren't worth it, like that guy Nathan. You don't have to let in a bunch of empty bodies with lifeless minds to use as a coping mechanism for the fear of not having anyone to love you." Scott explains, wishing he could just shake her until she understood. But this was Malia, and she wasn't one to be reasoned with.

"Scott, people scare me. They terrify me. Humans change their minds so rapidly, so quick to go back on their word. One moment it's "I like you " and "I'll never leave you behind" and the next it's "I don't love you anymore" and "What doesn't matter to you, matters to me" She says and then pauses. There it is again, deja vu.

She stops and muses over the words she just said, reciting them in her head. She thinks so hard about those exact phrases that she feels so deeply in her gut, as if they had broken her heart once before in another life. The back of her head throbs and she feels it there, a sliver of something trying to break free from her subconsciousness. Her eyes flash a crisp blue and a image flashes before her. Boyish, caramel eyes stare back at her, an urging neediness in their depths. And then they're gone.

Malia hasn't moved in minutes and Scott grabs a hold of her shoulders and cups her face between his hands.

"Lia' what's wrong. Are you okay?" He asks concerned, running his fingers through the sloppy braid that hands loosely on her neck, barely reaching past her collarbone.

"It's okay- I'm okay. That was weird... I had this feeling like, a memory of someone. But I don't know who?" She says questioningly, rubbing her head in confusion and lets out a sigh. "It's probably the lack of sleep. Nathan was a snorer." She says lightly and chuckles before moving away from the window and putting on her slippers.

"Can I persuade you to go out for some coffee and donuts at the cafe down the road? My treat." Scott suggests, hitting her with his big, puppy dog eyes that easily make her swoon, but she tries to cover her smile behind the sleeve of his over-sized shirt.

"I think I could be tempted." She replies with a charming smile.

That is something that Scott has come to notice about her. Malia has a bunch of different smiles. She has her lazy smile where her cheeks relax and small crinkles nest in corners of her sleepy eyes that have a smile of their own. Then there's her seductive smile. That's the one she usually reserves for getting what she wants, whether that be a favor or just a quick lay to put off the jittery feeling in her fingers until that itch can be calmed by a cigarette. There's the pageant smile. The one she puts on for her father and strangers. The very same one that she's tried on him once or twice until she realized that he could see right through her. That smile was too animated, too rehearsed, and it never reached her eyes. And lastly was her natural smile. Her endless brown eyes drink in every inch of whoever she is looking at and the softness of her lips eases into it's familiar place, creating a cute little dimple to form on the left side of her cheek. That's his favorite one and he's learning to decipher between them as she lets him in more in more without realizing it.

Kira had been what stopped him from pursuing Malia earlier, and something else. Scott couldn't quite put his finger on it. But something lingered in his heart... A feeling, a sense of loyalty, a fear of betrayal. He wasn't quite sure why he felt this way... Why he always felt this way. Something always held him back. Little did he know that it wasn't something, but someone.


	4. I Just Wanted You To Watch Me Dissolve

Malia has been having trouble sleeping lately, always stuck with this restless feeling in her bones that she couldn't quiet with any kind of meditating or sleeping pills. Her room is dark and the welcome lull of sleep pushes her heavy eyelids closed as it nears 5:45 am. And even then, her body still tremors as her fingers reach out and cling to the sheets of her bed, as if searching for an invisible hand in the mess of the pillows and blankets.

With a huff, she pushes back the sheets and snags a cigarette from her pack off the dresser and brings it to her lips, shakily lighting the little devil while taking a long drag. The nicotine film of smoke surrounds her in small clouds before dissipating into nonexistence. Something about it is enthralling to her, the idea that one second something can be there and the next, poof, gone. Something about it grates at Malia's brain, the familiarity of it making her head throb at the thought.

Sometimes, especially on nights like this, she just felt like something was missing. But every time she thought about it, the idea slowly trickled away, fading off as if the thought was never a thought at all. The concept of the whole thing is kind of a labyrinth within itself, and Malia doesn't like to dwell on it.

She lays back against her pillows with her brown hair sticking out in all directions and she takes another pull from the cigarette. Honestly, she doesn't even remember getting into cigarettes. It's another one of those blank spaces in the sequence of memories that feels like a dead end.

Leaning over, she rifles through her dresser and pulls out a stack of pictures she had taken with the pack throughout senior year and previous one. Sifting through the batch, her eyes are stuck to one of herself. It's from the day she found out that she's passed Junior year and would be able to go onto the next grade. But something about it is...off. She has a picture with everyone, but there's one where she stands alone, a huge smile on her face, and her arm outstretched casually, as if she it had been wrapped around someone's waist. Next to her is a confounding, empty space that throws the whole photo out of balance.

Why would she be reaching out her arm in a picture by herself?

The longer she looks at the picture, a small tear of sadness squeezes her heart, causing her to frown in confusion. Everything gives off an emotion: people, places, objects, anything really. Looking at the picture, she appears happy and care-free. But for some reason, she feels a thin thread of devastation pulling at the center of her chest and she doesn't know why. Something about that photo broke her heart, or maybe someone? 

Malia looks at the clock and it reads 6:37 am. Throwing on a pair of shorts and one of her dad's old college tshirts, she climbs through her window with a destination in mind and the photograph crumpled between her fingers. Fifteen minutes later she stands in front of the McCall house. She decided to walk. Driving had been an option that had crossed her mind, but she needed the time to clear her head. Climbing the side of the house, she lifts the window near Scott's bed and slides in quietly. She had planned on waking him, and she still was going to, but looking at him gave her pause. Scott's mousy dark hair is ruffled and wild, slightly curling around his ears. Her hand itches to run her fingers through it and sweep her thumb over the little scar he has on his forehead that you could only find if you were really looking for it. Her heart swells at the vision of him and she begins to realize how intimate it feels being in his room, surrounded by his things, and a small part of her wishing she were with him laying there, tucked into his side. The thought shakes Malia to her very core and she swallows the lump in her throat. Seeing him more relaxed than she has in a while, she almost leaves unnoticed, thinking that it would be silly to disturb him over something as stupid as a picture.

She's about to leave when a groan leaves his lips and a goofy smile rests on his face, yet his eyes are closed. Malia hones in on his heartbeat and he is indeed asleep. What happens next strikes her heart with a bitter sweetness and a current runs from her head all the way down to her toes, causing her breath to hitch.

"Malia..." He groans. "I want you to take- I want you to take it." He mumbles incoherently, rubbing his nose against his pillow, which Malia finds cute. "I want you to take it all, take everything."  
Malia stares dumbfounded, trying to understand what he could possibly be dreaming about and why it involves her. A pink blush tints her cheeks and her eyelashes flutter as she looks at him, seeing the guy who's fingerprints are all over who she is now. 

"I- I don't even know what- what it is- I just know that I want you to take it... It's yours, it's yours." He whispers in a hushed tone, his voice softening until it dies to a silent mouthing of unintelligible words.

Malia gets down on her knees until she's eye level with him and runs the back of her fingers down his cheek in a comforting motion. He leans into her touch and his lazy smile stretches out further. She rests her forehead against his and the warmth of his skin makes Malia want to melt into him and bury herself in a place so far deep inside him that she runs into his heart and stumbles upon the rhythm of it's beats.

"Scott..." She murmurs, playing with the hair on the back on his neck and tugging on it gently. It's weird how Scott brings out this calmness in her. To the world, she is aggressive, staggering, impulsive, and brazen like a chaotic rumbling of piano keys flying across the board. But with him... With just him she tempers down to a slow-beat melody, losing herself with a warped weight that takes on a new definition of feeling and the decay of her comforting walls she'd built so high around her.

She knows that what she feels for Scott is beyond her control at this point, no matter how much she hates to admit it and the number of times she'll continue to deny it. Sometimes she'll catch herself talking to him but realizing she'd rather stare into his eyes for hours straight instead of actually talk about anything. She likes how dark his eyes are, how they bore into hers with this enchantment he holds for her that she is undeserving of and she can see her own reflection in them. And she loves how as they stand face-to-face, his very presence makes her hands shake so hard and her lips tremble just to get a taste of what a man as magnetic as him could taste like. It's been so long since she's kissed someone and felt something. Actually, she doesn't remember a time where she's ever felt something. And within those dark, intense eyes, she sees this unspoken promise of protection, something that she'd kill for. Because she trusts him. And that means more to her than any 'I love you' ever could.

She presses her hand against his chest and his warm, heavy hand clamps over hers and keeps it there with a hum of satisfaction. His brown eyes greet hers and Malia's small smile makes a reappearance.

"Hey, you." She says lightly, still clutching his fingers that intertwine with hers as the two of their hands stay hugged to his chest.

"Hey 'Lia." He says in a low throaty voice that's dripping with sleep as his heavy-lidded eyes take in her appearance while his thumb brushes lazily over the back of her hand. He looks at the clock and then back at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I-um, I found something in my room. And I wanted your opinion on it." She explains, taking her bottom lip hostage between her teeth and looking down at Scott from beneath her eyelashes.  
"And you had to ask me at 7:00 in the morning?" He grins keenly, trying to stifle his chuckle. Malia Tate and unpredictable are basically synonymous. He really shouldn't be all that surprised.  
"Well you know how I get. Once my mind is stuck on something, I can't let go of it until I get my answers." She replies casually with her dark eyes shining with pride. If there's one thing Malia can say for herself, it would be that she gets shit done. And she gets it done quickly.

"So what you mean to say is that you're impatient and determined." Scott says, rising from the bed and throwing on a shirt, playfully mocking her cute, yet neurotic tendencies.  
"Well I mean, I wouldn't say it quite like that..." She states, her voice drifting off as she unintentionally stares at the small sliver of tan, muscular flesh that peaks out from beneath his shirt, close to the v-line of his hips due to his low-riding boxers.

Her tiny, pink tongue unconsciously sweeps across her lips before she averts her gaze and looks back up at Scott's face, realizing that he's watching her with wolfish eyes.

"Malia, are you okay?" Scott asks with fake modesty, knowing exactly what she had been staring at and unashamedly loving how she just stood there fixated on him with alluring, hungry eyes. He always wondered if she would ever look at him like that. And now that she had, Scott would make it his mission to make her look at him like that again and again.

"Uhm yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I thought I saw a stain on your shirt." She mumbles unconvincingly. However, her arched brow and perfectly measured head tilt dare him to say otherwise. But she should know that he's not afraid of her.

"My shirt, huh?" He questions, taking a bold step into her personal space and making her head swim in the presence of his masculine, sandalwood aroma. The mix of his scent and close proximity makes Malia feel hot between her thighs and the back of her neck. With measured breathes, she takes a step back and calms the tendrils of ecstasy that crashes through her body like shoot-up drug. She pulls out the crumpled picture from her pocket and smooths it own before stamping it against Scott's chest.

"Forget that, I need you to look at this picture. Look at the way my arm is positioned, as if someone is standing really close to me. My arm looks like it would be wrapped around someone's waist, doesn't it? I've had this overwhelming feeling that something in my life is off. I'm missing something very important and I think this picture may be a clue to what that something is. I don't know why, but when I look at it, I get this odd inkling that I am trying to remember something and trying to let it go at the same time." She explains in a single rushed breath, looking it over and running a finger over the unnaturally blank space beside her.

Scott doesn't say anything for a minute, opening and closing his mouth as if he wasn't sure how much or how little he should say.

"I've had that feeling, too. I don't know... I walked by this locker yesterday at school and I felt myself stumble as I was about to pass it. Suddenly I got this loud ringing in my ear that seemed to focus in on the locker. I thought I was going crazy. I started hearing little voices, nothing concrete that I could really make out, but something was familiar about it. I don't really know how to explain it. And when I put my hand against it, the coolness of the metal helped me relax and the noises disappeared. But, this phrase rung through my ears, " You're my best friend, Scott, you're my brother." It was so obscure and faint that I thought I'd conjured it up myself." He admits, a quiet shadow crossing his face.

"Do you think it could have something to do with the ghost riders?" She asks, left reeling at the news Scott had given her. So it wasn't just her, she wasn't overreacting. She wonders if Lydia is experiencing it, too.

"I don't know... The legend is that they take people. What if someone has been stolen from us but we just can't remember?" He ponders, taking in the new theory a second at a time.  
"I think we need to talk to Lydia about this." Malia suggests, having the unnerving suspicion that they are being watched.

When she leaves and goes back home to get ready for school, the prickling sensation doesn't leave her. Something big is unraveling before them, and she is going to find out what the Wild Hunt has to do with it.


	5. Trembling Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Help Me Out by Alicks

Stiles sits in the corner of the decrepit, old train station that's ridden with mold and reeks of a distinct, coppery smell similar to rusty pennies. His head lulls back and forth, anxious eyes falling closed every once in a while. Those are the moments when he dreams of a time before this one where his worry-filled life was taken up with the latest supernatural conundrum, the newest case his dad was working on, making it through high school, and his flip-flopping emotions.

And now all there is, is silence.

There is no sense of time down there. There is no structure of what is down and what is up, how many seconds or days he'd been there, if anything he was seeing really even existed.

Peter comes and sits down beside him, his back colliding loudly against the wall as he lets out a huff and his back slumps to the same position that Stiles is currently in.

"You still think they're going to remember you, don't you?" He asks in his usual overbearing manner, eyeing him with pity that Stiles surely didn't need from a guy like him.

"I'm so happy that I have something worth hoping for. You broke your ties with everyone. You tried to turn us against Scott, you tried to kill him. And you manipulated Malia. From where I'm sitting, I have a better chance of your own daughter remembering me before you. And good riddance, she doesn't need you in her life. She never needed you." Stiles retorts with a cynical bite to his tone, loving the satisfaction his gets from the momentary silence from Peter. But of course, all good things must end.

"And you think she needs you?" He asks in utter disbelief. "You honestly, truly think that Malia would ever want anything to do with you after everything you've done, Stiles? You can point fingers all you want, but I've never pretended to be the good guy. You walk around in your flannels and big brown eyes like you're some sort of saint, but Malia is a smart girl. She finally saw through you when you showed your true colors. She's better off without you, too, even if you don't want to admit it. You know, I always did wonder what she saw in you. Poor, skinny, defenseless, Stiles. I always figured she'd go for a guy like Scott... Kind, noble, compassionate. Who knows, maybe that's exactly what she's doing right now." Peter muses, chuckling at the deep frown on Stiles face.

"Stop talking." Stiles grits out, quickly losing his temper. No matter what happened between him and Malia, he's still protective of her and Peter doesn't get to speak about her like he knows anything about her and how she's feels. He doesn't get that luxury.

He knew that him and Malia were over, it started as an unspoken thing that eventually just stayed that way. But something about the idea of her and Scott rubbed him the wrong way. Just the thought of her looking at his best friend the way she used to look at him made him... sad. Like that hollow feeling in your chest where you can feel your heart drop down to your stomach and your insides twisting into knots. And what if Peter was right? He was no Scott. He could never measure up to him, no matter how hard he'd tried throughout school. But then Malia came along and saw something in him from the second she had met him and from that point, Stiles no longer felt like he needed to be in competition with Scott. He'd had a good thing at the time and she had been fiercely devoted to him. That's just who Malia is. But what about now?

Was she laying her head in Scott's lap the way she used to with him when they would do homework together? Did Scott run his fingers through her hair and massage her scalp the way he would when she was stressed out about a test coming up? Did she brush his fingers in the hallway the way her and him used to?

Stiles isn't naive and won't deny noticing the subtle shift in their dynamic throughout the year, but he never said anything about it because he had Lydia. At first, he had chalked it up to Scott being a good friend and looking out for her, but eventually the lingering hugs and knowing looks were difficult to ignore. Scott's hand would stay on the small of her back for a beat too long and Malia would look up at him through her lashes with this unreadable look in her eyes. Stiles always had a feeling that Scott had been trying to tell him a few different times that something had changed between the two of them, but he never did.

It bothered him, the endless scenarios of how things could be playing out right now with him gone. As egocentric as it is, Stiles craved the feeling of having something that was just his. And his connection with Malia was one of those things that was priceless to him. He never felt threatened that someone would take that away from him, not Scott, not anybody. That's when he realizes that maybe he had loved Malia in a selfish way all along. And when you care about someone, you can't be thoughtless with them.

"So, didn't you leave my beautiful, coyote daughter for that Lydia Martin, girl? I always did like something about her. She just had this thing about her blood when I bit her that night... It was so... Spicy." Peter grins and continues to pick at Stiles' brain, pestering and goading him into a confrontation. "I mean, I get what you see in her, really I do. But she can't hold a candle to my Malia. It's those Hale genes, they don't skip any generations." He chuckles and winks, as if the two of them were buddies and talking about the weather.

"How about you keep both of their names out of your mouth, huh? And Malia is a Tate, not a Hale." Stiles breathes, dangerously close to losing control of his temper. Peter senses his breaking point is near and decides to back off for now, enjoying the fact that he is able to work up the Stilinski boy so easily. He really is predictable.

Time goes on. Stiles thoughts began to ebb back and forth.

Scott. Lydia. Malia. His dad. Lydia. Malia. Scott. His dad. Malia. Scott. Lydia. His dad.

The worst part about the Wild Hunt isn't even being taken. It isn't just the realization that every single person that you've ever known, loved, or cared about doesn't bat an eyelash at your disappearance. It's the waiting... The thinking. It's the isolation and the descent into madness that keeps you up and leaves you missing people that don't miss you back. Maybe this is what Purgatory is like, or maybe even Hell. Maybe eternal suffering is already here on Earth and the demons have escaped in the form of men on horses.

The Four Horseman, how fitting.

Stiles rocks in a fetal position, biting numbly on his finger nails until he draws blood.

"Someone is going to remember me; Scott, Lydia, Malia. They'll come for me. They'll bring me back. They'll bring me home."


	6. I Think About You

Malia rubs her bleary eyes as she stares at the clock on the wall. Each tick of the small hand is like the spoke of a wheel, running down the time. She wishes it would move faster. She can hear Lydia and Scott's heartbeats around her, Lydia to her right and Scott directly behind her. And then of course there's the one to her left where Kira used to sit. It was times like this that she really missed the Kitsune.

"Malia, what is the answer to the equation?" Mrs. Williams asks loudly, pulling Malia out of her thoughts.

"Um, what? Sorry, could you repeat the question?" She asks, sinking further into her chair.

"Miss Tate, you would do well to pay attention. You and I both know that your grade can't afford another downward slope." The teacher replies haughtily before calling on another student and turning back towards the board.

Malia's blood boils and she can feel her temper slipping. Her eyes flicker blue rapidly, shifting back and forth to brown like a faulty light switch. A clear growl animates from her chest and her elongated claws scratch against the bottom of her desk.

Scott grabs her hand from the spot behind her to help her focus.

"Malia, calm down, breathe. You are stronger than this." He says soothingly, rubbing small circles on the palm of her hand and running his fingers over her knuckles.

Lydia looks on with interest.

"Control is overrated"

She hears a voice, withering yet distinct that trickles in and out. She listens hard, waiting for something else to happen, but she hears nothing. She must of imagined it.

She concentrates on the beat of Scott's pulse when his hand slipped into hers. After a few moments, her claws draw back into her skin and her brown eyes focus in on the sight in front of her, his bronze skin contrasting gorgeously against hers as if they were melting together. It looks so small compared to the size of his, yet somehow they fit perfectly in a way she never expected them to. His hands were large, smooth, and a mocha tan with hypnotic veins racing down the back of them. Rough and beautiful and somehow capable of so much tenderness and compassion, she realized then that she loved his hands. And just the lingering thought makes her tingle all over and question why in the world she is noticing these trivial things about him. She looks back up at him and meets his gaze, nods her thanks, and shifts her gaze back to the front.

Has Scott always been the one able to pull her back? If so, why is she losing control now?

"It's progress"

She hears the voice whisper in her ear again, the words echoed and running away as fast as they came. Malia whips her head around and searches for the source of the sound, her wavy dark hair fluttering around her.

"Malia, are you okay?" Lydia asks concerned, eyeing her like she's lost her mind.

"Did you guys not hear that?" She asks puzzled, gauging their reactions.

"Hear what?" Scott replies, watching her with the same mild concern that Lydia had.

"The voices..." She said, looking in between the two of them.

"I'm pretty sure that if there had been any voices, I would hear them." Lydia says matter-of-fact. "I'm kind of an unwilling participant in that department. Voices love crowding around in my head."

"I know what I heard." Malia barks, clearly frustrated that they didn't believe her. She bites back the words on the tip of her tongue and takes a breath. "Sorry... I didn't mean to snap at you guys." Apologizing, she faces the front again and lays her head against the desk.

The rest of class goes by in a blur of letters mixed with numbers and Malia thinking how they shouldn't go together. Math really is the center of all evil. With a grumble, she shuffles out of her seat when the bell rings and throws her satchel over her shoulder. Her combat boats squeak against the tile and she can hear the clicking of Lydia's heels and Scott's heavy steps following behind her.

She can sense their presence before she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"What is wrong with you? You've been on edge all day and I can tell that something is bothering you, so spill it." Lydia demands, causing Malia to groan. She fidgets around with her locker before opening it and pulling out the picture that she had shown Scott.

"Look at this picture. I have a photo similar to this one with every member of the pack. And then there's this one that sticks out like a sore thumb. I'm just standing there with my arm outstretched, like I'm standing up against someone. I have no memory of taking this picture and the position I'm standing in doesn't make any sense." She explained.  
"So you're losing your marbles over a picture?" Lydia retorts with a look of disbelief.

Malia fights down a snide remark. "Lydia, are you telling me that nothing feels off to you? This morning I found myself unconsciously searching through my phone looking for a name. I don't know who, but I didn't find whomever I was looking for. Something is wrong, and I think it has to do with the Ghost Riders."

Lydia quiets. "Well, I guess something did feel a little different today. I could of sworn that I was suppose to meet someone this morning. I had this feeling, like it's someone that I walk to class with every day. I figured it was either you or Scott, but we don't have first period together." Lydia says with a shrug.

"I think I felt something too... Like a tugging. I already told Malia about this but I walked by this locker the other day and for some reason I was drawn to it. I couldn't fathom why. Just something about it... called to me, like literally spoke to me. I guess I shouldn't have been as skeptical about the voices you were hearing, 'Lia." He apologizes, scratching the back of his neck. "And this morning, I stepped on a tack from a picture that fell down off my cork board. It was of me, you, and Lydia... But there's this gaping hole of empty space in the middle... as if someone else should have been there, too." Scott adds in.

"I think someone was taken from us and the Ghost Riders erased all memories of them." Malia states, chewing on her bottom lip out of nervous habit.

"I guess it's possible... But who do you'll think it would be?" Lydia ponders.

"They could be pack." Scott suggests.

"They could be a boyfriend or girlfriend." Lydia ponders.

"They could be a friend. Someone that means something different for all of us. Someone we can't lose." Malia states. "I think he may have been my anchor." She adds, her eyes falling on Scott who stared back with equal fervor and a look of disappointment evident in those dark eyes of his. She'd do anything to get him to stop looking at her like that.

Scott lets out a faux cough. "Maybe we should take some time and then regroup later after school." He says, refusing to meet her gaze. "I think we all have a lot of thinking to do and I'll try to do some research on the Ghost Riders. Maybe you two can do some investigating. The memories aren't going to come back on their own." He finishes, a frown ever-present on his before he turns and stalks off down the hall.

"Are you guys okay... Is there something going on between you two?" Lydia blurts out, facing Malia once Scott is out of ear shot.

"It's... Complicated." Malia sighs, running her fingers through her hair.

"He likes you, doesn't he?" The strawberry blonde replies knowingly, unintentionally hitting it right on the nail.

Malia is quiet.

"But the real question is, do you feel the same?" She tries again, her green eyes piercing the werecoyote with her impenetrable stare.

Malia is flustered and reserved, something that is uncharacteristic of her outspoken and brazen personality.

"I don't know what I feel, Lydia. I- I know that I care about him. And I think about him way more than I should. In ways that I shouldn't. In ways that I didn't think I was capable of." She admits, covering her face with her hand.

"Is that so bad?" Lydia points out, moving Malia's hands away from her face so that she'd look at her. There was a semblance of trust that passed between the two girls. Malia was a firm believer in personal space, at least when it came to her own, and she was always finicky about who she let in.

They pair had grown close over the past few months. Lydia never thought she could form a connection with another girl, not after Allison. And in some ways, she realized that she had held that against Malia for a long time. It had been easier with Kira. The Kitsune had reminded her of the Allison she had first met, the shy girl that could light up the room with her smile. It was comforting and warm. But the problem was that Malia reminded her of Allison, too. Her bravery, fierceness, protectiveness, and loyalty. Lydia envied the way she could take care of herself. And part of her had always been jealous of Allison because of it. But it was also what she had loved most about her. Malia embodied these qualities. Back then, she couldn't help but bitterly hold it over the other girl's head, the fact that she wasn't Allison. Now she realizes that it's okay that she isn't and that she doesn't have to be.

"Something is holding me back. I'm wasting away on cigarettes and useless boys who only make me feel emptier inside. I just want to feel something. I sit at home alone and I miss him... Scott. I dream about his eyes staring back at me, caressing me, holding me. But then there's this itch in the back of my head that says that it's wrong. I guess he is the one that I didn't see coming."

"What do you mean?"

"He... gets under my skin. He makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and he makes me feel safe. He makes me unsteady, terrified, happy, and my stomach to get tangled up in knots. When I'm with him I feel like I'm remembering a feeling that I've forgotten." Malia sighs and looks Lydia in the eyes. "Please don't tell him."

"Why don't you want him to know? You can't go through life self-sabotaging every good thing that comes your way, Mal." Lydia implores, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Malia feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She hadn't ever wanted to reveal this to anyone. She is a private person who prefers to keep her cards close. "After I took my mother's power, I felt... lost. I thought I'd feel relieved and..." Malia couldn't put her finger on the word she was looking for.

"Languor?" Lydia butts in.

"Lang-what?" The brunette balks, a cute confused look on her face.

Lydia chuckles. "Languor... It's like this pleasant feeling, usually coupled with tiredness. Like the feeling when you just woke up from a long nap after a hard day and you stretch your muscles and feel your body succumb to the sensation."

Malia has to grin at that. She is slowly learning all the Lydia-isms that make up her intelligent, lovable, sassy friend.

"Yeah, that." She chuckles before she sombers, remembering where she was going with the conversation. "I felt so lonely and cold. I think a part of me was hoping that there would be something redeemable in the woman who gave me life. But she was willing to do everything she could to end it. I don't know why it hurt so bad, but it did." She pauses and licks her chapped lips. "I saw myself in her. I have her hair and her eyes and her nose. I'm a slip of a girl that came from this woman that just... hated me from the second I was born. I guess those feelings all came rushing back to me when I saw her unmoving on the floor of Scott's house."

"Malia I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay, I've made my peace with it. But at the time, it was swallowing me. I was drowning in my own self-loathing. I never told anyone this but when I stole her power, I could feel chips of her soul falling away. I was connected to her and I could hear her thoughts. In her last moments, I was holding onto this hope that she would feel just a sliver of regret, any kind of lost love for the daughter she tried to murder in cold blood. But... There was nothing, just blinding, unadulterated hate."

Lydia squeezed her hand, pouring her love into her for strength.

"Anyways, after Deaton treated my bullet wounds, I found my way to one of the cliffs just outside of Beacon Hills. I was standing at the top with my toes kissing the edge with nothing beneath me but a rocky bottom fighting against crashing waves, gravity, and a long way down. And somehow, with all that distance staring me right in the face, I still felt emptier than a ghost. And just when I thought that maybe that was where I was always suppose to end up, Scott called..." She smiled, wiping a lone tear that trailed down her cheek.

"He told me how proud he was of me and that I was strong. He told me that I had more love and humanity in my finger than the Desert Wolf had in her whole body. He promised me that things would get better and that he'd never let me feel unloved again. He's kept that promise, and then some." Malia recalled, her grin growing bigger until she wore a full-blown smile that lit up her entire face.

"So why are you afraid of telling Scott your feelings?" Lydia wonders, genuinely confused.

"What if it hurts?" Malia blurts.

"And what if it does? That's love, sweetie, nothing worth it comes easy. But you guys are good together. You balance each other out."

"I'm afraid that slapping on a band-aid won't be enough if it ends badly. I know I'll mess up or say the wrong thing."

Lydia wraps her small arms around Malia's neck and pulls her into a hug.

"It may hurt at times. But it's going to hurt because it matters."


	7. Star Girl

Malia had thought a lot about what Lydia said the rest of the day. She stopped by the store after school and grabbed a bag of white chocolate covered pretzels, two root beer floats, and some french fries... All Scott's favorites.

She let herself into his home, knowing Melissa would still be at the hospital. She takes a second to admire it all: the stone fireplace, the hardwood floors, and the cinnamon aroma that perfumes the kitchen from the candle that sits on the counter. She inhales deeply and sighs. She doesn't know when this place became home, but it leaves her reeling at the familiar feeling that fills her chest with bubbling nostalgia.

Maybe it was the late night dinners that Scott would invite her to join when Melissa would get off late and come through the doors with Chinese takeout. He knew that Malia was left alone a lot, usually having to fend for herself with her dad going out of town a lot for his job or a hunting trip with his buddies. Frozen dinners can only hold a person over for so long, so Scott soon made it a habit of welcoming her over. It became an unspoken arrangement every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Or could it be countless times they had broken into the school and snuck into the library late at night when neither of them could find sleep. The first night it had happened, Malia had crawled in through Scott's window and shook him awake, leaving him bristled in surprise. "'Lia, what are you doing?" He had asked her with sleepy smile and lazy eyes that she found so endearing. "I couldn't sleep." She had said. He had pulled her into his arms and they had just laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling in an effort to look anywhere but each other."Will you read to me?" She whispered in the dimmed lighting of his room where all she could see was the deep pools of his eyes. They had ran to the school and Scott had let Malia pick out any book that she wanted. She stood in front of him with a book pressed against her chest and her whole body vibrating in excitement. They had spent hours sitting, him reading and her listening. And then when they had returned to his house, he offered her a place to stay. He had insisted that she take the bed and he'd make a palette on the floor, but she shook off the sentiment, demanding that they share. It was his bed, she felt wrong kicking him out of it and she knew he'd never let her sleep on the floor. And so there they had laid with a foot of space in between them, both pretending to be asleep, but the pounding of their hearts giving them both away. Neither of them ever mentioned it.

She walks up the winding staircase and his door is cracked open and she can hear his breathing and his body moving around on his bed. She opens it wider and stands quietly in the doorway watching him looking for something underneath his bed.

"Scott" She says, letting her presence be known as she moves further into the door.

Scott hits his head on the bottom of the bed, letting out a grumble.

"I thought you were going to dig up evidence with Lydia." He says. No "hello" or "good to see you".

"I think we need to talk." She says apprehensively, taking tentative steps towards his bed.

He still hasn't looked at her since she walked into the room. "Now's not really a good time, I'm meeting up with Liam and Mason to read more about the ghost riders."

"Can't I come with you?"

"No."

"No?"

"Malia, no, okay? I just... I think we need some space from each other." He says solemnly, finally raising his gaze to meet her stony expression. Even then, she can see how his eyes soften when they're trying to stay hardened.

She can feel her jaw clench and the urge to growl feels impossible to squash, yet she stands her ground. "Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. It didn't say what I did to push you away or to whatever. I'm just trying to figure this thing out like everyone else. I think I used to have someone important to me that helped me stay in control. I'm not going to apologize for seeking answers."

He looks down at his feet and doesn't say anything. This is why she doesn't let herself love people, because she always ends up disappointing them.

"This person, I don't even know if they're real or if it's all in my head. But what I do know is that I feel like I've lost something. And I think this person helped make sure that I never lost myself."  
She sits next to him on the bed and leans her head on his shoulder. Being vulnerable doesn't come easy to her, but she tries for him.

"But no matter who this person is, it doesn't change the fact you when I do get lost, you always help me find myself." She grabs his hands. "And that's something I'll never be able to repay you for. You're invaluable to me, Scott." A pause fills the room. "Please say something." She begs, nuzzling further into him.

His fingers curl around hers. "You didn't hurt my feelings, I hurt my own. I should be happy that there is someone that got you through stuff that maybe I couldn't. You belong deeply to yourself, and you have never needed anyone to rescue you. But I guess, in some ways, I wanted to. Even if you could do it all on your own. Because I care about you. A lot." He confesses.  
"And I care about you. A lot." She smirks, loving how his hesitation mirrors her own. Here they are, still skirting around their feelings. But there are other ways of saying I like you. And they are anything but conventional.

"Survive for me, because I can't live without you."

"Call me when you get home so I know you got there safely."

"Let me help you."

Maybe theirs is "I care about you. A lot."

Scott smiles, his dimples deepening into two crescent moons.

"It's more complicated than that, you know." He says admittedly, facing her.

"I know." She replies. "But I'm not good at complicated, regrettably. But I will be. I'm working on it, because this-" She reiterates, while tapping his nose with the tip of her finger. "This matters to me."

Scott pushes a stray curl behind her ear. "You're cute when you get all sappy." His smile grows bigger.

"You should see me when I'm angry, it's adorable." She teases, shoving him lightly in the shoulder.

He notices the bag of stuff next to her. "So are those apology snacks? Not that you need to be sorry for anything, but I'll still accept them." He says cheekily, reaching over and ripping open the bag of pretzels.

Malia rolls her eyes. "They're for both of us." She gripes, snatching them out of his hands and popping one in her mouth with a grin.

"Return the pretzels or I'll be forced to take action." Scott says in mock seriousness, causing Malia to laugh and slightly choke on her mouth full of pretzels.

"Ooohhh, I'm so scared." Her giggles growing louder at his pouting. "I'm serious, I'm shaking in my boots." She adds, only making him pout even more.

"I warned you, Tate." He says before launching at her and begins tickling her every place he can reach.

Pretzels go flying around the bed and Malia's laugh and feeble protests envelop the room. Scott laughs along with her, but refuses to give in.

"You know, this never would have happened if you had kindly returned my pretzels." He says with fake regret, but is cut off when Malia pokes him in the belly button which causes him to jump and her to smirk triumphantly in his direction.

"I win, you lose. Who's the Alpha now?" Her smirk stays firmly in place and her eyes twinkle in amusement.

And something about the way she says that turns him on more than he's ever been in his life. He feels desire lick a path of fire up his thighs and straight to this groin. His eyes darken and he can smell her arousal. The chemo signals blend together into a suffocating mass of sexual tension and unresolved feelings.

He goes at her again, playing it off as making a move for the pretzels.

The flash of lust is still evident in her eyes, but there's also caution.

"I call a ceasefire! I also brought fries and root beer floats for us to dip them in..." She says, but her words trail off. Somewhere in between their play wrestling and the building tension, they had fell over onto the floor with Scott landing on top of her. Their noses were touching, just barely brushing against each others and she can taste the minty flavor of his breath.

Her brows furrow. She wants to, but should she?

She leans in.

So does he.

It starts light and airy, a shy press of lips. And then it becomes persistent, longer, deeper. And then his tongue peeks out, caressing her bottom lip to test the waters. And she returns it when her teeth graze his in unison. Their nose are bumping against each other and his hands awkwardly move around until they clench against her hips. She paws at his shirt, grabbing fist fulls of the fabric between her fists. Her eyes flutter open at the same time as him.

"Wow..." Is all he can find the ability to say. He can't think of words to articulate just how badly he wanted to do that again. And again.

Her lips and bruised and swollen to a dark pink and her cheeks flood with color.

"Do you- do you want to try that again?" She asks, staring at him dumbly with stars in her eyes and a goofy grin she can't seem to wipe from off her face even if she wanted to. Her fingers run over his uneven jawline and she beams at the crooked smile he graces her with.

"Yes, absolutely. I 100% want to try that again." He rambles and she chuckles. He catches her lips mid-laugh and her smile returns. He pecks her lips a few more times and she lets herself enjoy it.

"I guess Lydia was right." She blurts.

"About what?"

"About you."


	8. Six Feet Under

Stiles POV: He can't take it. The waiting is driving him insane. His body is numb from sitting in the same seat for who knows how long. He'd had time to think and to plan, but even his best idea for escape sounded like a death sentence. He searched the halls. He searched the doors. He searched the corridors, back ways, and floors. Standing, he drifts from wall to wall, shadowing himself behind the stone pillars and peering into the mouth of the arch that leads down another dark hall. He'd never seen that one before, it wasn't there yesterday.

His feet patter silently against the cement ground, occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him. Peter stayed behind in the train station lounge, defeated and falling into the same mindless oblivion of those who have accepted being forgotten. He stumbles through the dome-like arch, disabled by the shallow darkness that floods his eyes until he's immersed in a vacuumed void. He can't rely on his sight so he trips over his feet, his shaking fingers blindly reaching out against the walls as he continues to stagger to an unknown destination. A slip of light peeks out at the end of the hall, starting as a flicker before blinding him with it's iridescence.

He runs towards the tiny glimmer of salvation.

The closer he gets, the farther it seems to be. His legs feel like jelly and his ragged breathing turns into a fitful cough. His conscious is moving, but it feels as though his body isn't. He halts his steps and bends over his knees, trying to catch his breath. He has to be almost there, right?

He starts running again. Faster. Quicker.

He finally reaches the end and his eyes struggle to adjust to the dramatic shift from dark to light.

"I think I found it. I'm going home." He thinks to himself, taking a hesitant step forward. And then two. And then three, morphing into a full blown sprint.

He can taste the salt in the air from the beach near Beacon Hills. He's standing on a cliff watching the sky fade from soft blue to a deep indigo with splashes of grey. The waves are boisterous and angry, coming together and apart like estranged lovers. The wind is bone-chilling and the trees whistle as they sway in the eye of the storm. He turns his head and he sees a head of dark hair flowing down sun-kissed skin. He squints, making out the willowy figure of a girl and instantly recognizes those familiar, caramel eyes.

"Malia..." He sighs in relief, rushing over to her side as she stands facing the water. She's staring down the nose of the cliff with glassy eyes and a frown marring her pretty face. 

He tries to rouse her. He goes to grasp her shoulder but his hand goes straight through her body like a phantom touch. She seems unaffected by him being there. She doesn't make a sound. She doesn't even seem like she sees him.

"Malia, I'm back! Aren't you going to say anything?" He screams over the roar of the tide, trying once again to touch her and pull her away from the edge once he notices how close she is to the end. One powerful gust of wind and she'd go tumbling over.

He doesn't like the look on her face. It resembles the way she appeared when she'd found out that he'd lied to her about who her real family was. She's crumbled and broken, the polar opposite of the blazing fire of the woman that he knew she was. A lone tear leaks from the corner of her eye and she wipes it away furiously with the sleeve of her hoodie. His hoodie. 

He tries again to make her see him. He's getting angrier by the second and his anxiety spikes.

"Why can't you hear me?" He shouts, his hands grasping air as he falls to her feet. Why did you forget me?" His voice cracks at the end and his throat is sore. Finally, it hits him. 

"This isn't real, is it?"

"Isn't it, though?" A disembodied voice echoes through the his mind. It causes the image to ripple and blur and Stiles can't see Malia anymore. "Technically it's not real. You aren't physically here, considering it's a memory. It's just not yours." The voice snickers.

He's back in the tunnels.

"Where did she go? What did you do to her? Bring her back, she needs my help!"

"No Stiles, she doesn't." The voice cautions.

"She's going to jump! I have to stop her, please! She can't die, I'll go out of my freaking mind... I-I-I- need her. This is the only scrap of my old life that I still have and it's the one thing keeping me from letting it all go." He gasps, falling to the ground in a puddle of agony. "I can't stay here. Please help me."

"If you insist, but don't say I didn't warn you." The voice admonishes.

Stiles feels his head throb and his vision swims. Then it all comes into focus. He's back.

Malia stands stock still, only this time the tip of her combat boots had moved a little closer to the edge as they scrape the deteriorating peak.

"I could just fall." She says suddenly, peering over the edge with the distance staring her in the face.

"Don't even think about it." Stiles growls angrily, stomping over to her side. Just because she couldn't see or hear him doesn't mean that he couldn't yell and scream and be mad at her. The fact that she could even think that something like this would ever be okay leaves him hot.

It's selfish! Doesn't she know how many people would miss her? Knowing that something brought her to this moment makes him burn in the worst way possible. He looks out at the water and thinks how the sky and water would actually be a beautiful combination in it's devastation, seeing the blue-black and greys slow dancing together around them. He knows it's quite morbid, but he had grown jaded throughout the years witnessing all the things he and his friends had.

If only he was here under different circumstances.

She grimaces. "Why couldn't you have loved me the way I always wanted to be loved, huh?" She asks to empty space, letting the question hang in the air. For a moment, Stiles thinks she's talking about him.

"I didn't need you to be my mom, I already had one of those. But I did need you to at least be a decent human being. I wanted you to feel something for me, just a piece of regret... and now you're gone. And I'm left feeling like I'm falling into quick sand." She confesses, the deep brown of her eyes shining with tears. "I don't have a family anymore. I don't have Stiles anymore. I don't have anyone, and you took that from me!" She shouts into the wind and her body trembles as the unwanted feelings overtake her. She sways slightly, catching herself when she stumbles over a rock and almost falls. She chuckles somberly. "You're dead and you still get the last laugh."

Stiles advances on her. "Malia, that's not true. You didn't lose me, I'm still here. I'm right here. I would never leave you." He whispers even though he knows she can't hear him. He knows this is a moment that he never got to witness, but he blames himself for it all the same. Because he should have been here. He'd been too wrapped up in Lydia, him and Scott's drama, and his own self-loathing to spare her a thought.

Malia is independent and the toughest girl he knows. She never needed him to fight her demons. But he had let her believe that she did, because he had loved how she relied on him. He loved the look of wonder that would wash over her in even the most trivial moments like when he'd help her with her homework or teach her how to drive. She had always been fully there in every second of their relationship, even when she knew he wasn't.

But he still loved being loved by her.

"Dad, I'm sorry I couldn't be strong for you. I know I'm taking the easy way out and your going to grieve for another daughter who isn't worth it. Stiles, I'm sorry I failed you and that I couldn't make you forget about Lydia, you have no idea how many times I wished I could. Lydia, I'm sorry that you're about to lose another best friend. I'm being selfish, I know it. But you'll still feel me, closer than anyone else. But it will be in death. "Scott... Scott I'm so sorry that you wasted your time on me, but I want to thank you for turning me human. I got to experience what it's like to be a teenager and a friend. I also learned what it's like to be in love and how much it hurts to lose it."

Stiles feels the tears prickling his eyes and his hand ghosts past her cheek, imagining that he was actually touching her. He knew he couldn't change anything. The worst part is that he doesn't know if this memory is recent or not. He has no way of knowing."Malia, listen to me, okay please! You can't do this. Please, Malia, please. I know this is my fault. God dammit, this is all my fault. I did this to you. I should have tried harder to help you find the Desert Wolf. I should have visited you at Deaton's clinic. All I had to do was pay attention!" Stiles screams, racing over to her and laying his cheek on top of her head. "Please Mal, don't leave me." He whispers brokenly, shaken from his reverie when he hears a phone ring.

It's Malia's. She picks up the phone and holds it to her ear, choking down her tears so that whoever it is wouldn't know what she had been planning to do.

"Scott, hey... Yeah no, I'm fine. Just... working on that pre-cal assignment due tomorrow." The lie comes easily through her teeth as her voice stays steady and smooth.

Stiles can hear Scott faintly through the other end of the phone.

"That's funny because I'm at your house with Braedan and your dad says he hasn't seen you all day." The deeper voice admonishes. 

"Okay, you caught me. I just needed some time to think, you know after everything with the Desert Wolf and Stiles." She pauses to collect her thoughts. The more she lets the thoughts consume her, the angrier she gets. Her jaw clenches and a snarl escapes her lips. "He didn't even check on me when Theo shot me. We broke up and he just doesn't care about me anymore. He's been too worried about Lydia" She grits out, biting her tongue and unintentionally letting the bitterness seep out. "Scott, I know my mom was a killer and she never wanted anything to do with me. But... does it make me weak that I'm sad about her being gone? I don't miss her, not in the slightest. But I miss the possibilities of what meeting her could of been like. I used to fantasize about what she looked like, how her hair smelled, or if she'd be proud of who I grew up to be. I guess I miss the bliss that came with being ignorant. I had all these expectations and she crushed every single one."

"It doesn't make you weak, it makes you human." Scott reminds her thoughtfully, carving a small smile out of the frown that had played on her lips.

"I keep thinking that maybe Stiles is going to call. I thought for sure he would after he watched me get shot multiple times. But... Radio silence." The frown returns. And Stiles feels like the world's biggest jackass.

"I was worried about you... I just didn't know how to show it. Things were weird, I didn't know how to talk to you." Stiles mumbles, knowing that it was an excuse. He continues listening in on her and Scott's conversation.

Scott comforts her. "Well I care about you. A lot. I'm so proud of you, 'Lia. You didn't let her turn you into a monster." 

Stiles flinches. Why did he always have to say the right thing?

"No one's ever told me that they're proud of me. I didn't realize how much I needed to hear it until now, so thank you. For being you. And caring. And...I care about you, too. A lot." The words tumble out of her mouth without her even thinking about it and for some reason it makes her smile widen.

Stiles notices this and he finds himself frowning. Had Scott always been perceptive to Malia or was he just that terrible of a boyfriend that he hadn't been?

"Well get used to it because you're a part of this pack and nothing will ever change that. You're amazing and strong, probably way stronger than I could ever be. It's kind of intimidating." Scott chuckles through the phone. "This will all blow over eventually. The guilt and the heart ache may never go away, but I promise things will get easier. You have more humanity in your finger than your mother had in her whole body. Her blood may run through your veins, but you are not her. And I know things with Stiles are rocky, but I'm here for you, 'Lia. You can count on me to love you no matter what happens between you guys. You're always welcome to come by if you ever need to talk." 

"Thanks Scott. I just need time."

Stiles continues to watch the scene unfold before him in a dream-like trance, unable to touch or manipulate the situation. He feels his heart constrict painfully as if someone had squished it between their hands.

"Scott saved her..." He murmurs, lost in the sight of Malia's hair blowing in the wind as she steps away from the edge and treks down the cliff. She walks right past him like he's a fly on the wall and he realizes all that he really had lost. Her boots crunch against the twigs and rocks until she disappears from sight, leaving Stiles standing alone.

Bye Malia."

Suddenly he's sucked into a vortex of light and dumped back to the end of the hallway.

What just happened? How was I able to see her?

Peter looms by one of the pillars. "It's part of the Wild Hunt. You ride the lightening for eternity and eventually you lose your mind over and over again to the point that the ghost riders curse you with the ability to look back on pieces of your life that you missed out on. It makes everything even more unbearable. You get to witness all the mistakes you made and the memories that you can't fix. You spend all your days deranged and thirsting for a fleeting moment in time that you'll never get back. There is no way out, Stiles. We are never getting out of here." He says with a tone of finality.

"I refuse to accept that. I can't let myself give up hope that there's a way out of here." The Stilinski boy proclaims, tearing at his hair with his fingers. "Help me, Peter."

"I already told you-"

"I know what you said. But what about Malia, huh? I know you care about her more than you let on. I know you want to get out of here for her, to protect her. And I'm okay with that. I want to get back to her and my dad, Scott, and Lydia. But I can't do it alone." He utters, pleading with his sworn enemy to join forces with him and find a way out of there.

Peter stands there and doesn't say anything, but Stiles can see his will crumbling. He knows that he wants nothing more than to make things right with his daughter.

He gives in. "If we're doing this, we're doing it my way, no exceptions." Peter concedes, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

"Yeah! Sure! Whatever you want." Stiles babbles out excitedly, finally feeling a semblance of hope since he'd been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Okay wow, so Stiles just witnessed the moment that Malia told Lydia about in chapter six. What did you guys think? It seems like Stiles is experiencing some major guilt... and possibly picking up on the scalia vibes? And I just want to be clear that this is a Scalia story. Yes I throw in some stalia because I'm trash for them and their my otp. It didn't feel like they got the closure they deserved in the show or that their feelings about the break up were touched upon in the way they should have been. But don't worry, the next chapter will be SCALIA HEAVY and I'm so excited to write it!


	9. Someone To Stay

Malia POV: I lay slumped against the headboard of Scott's bed, clutching my stomach and gasping for breath while laughing at this dumb joke he had made. And of course the uncontrollable laughter led to a little snort to escape, which I'll probably never live down. My eyes widen and I cover my mouth with my hand in embarrassment while Scott's eyes sparkle with mischief.  
"Did you just snort?" He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows, an inevitable grin stretching across his face that meets his dimpled cheeks. "You know, that's kind of hot." He teases. Instead of answering, I stick my index fingers into the holes of his flashing dimples and he retaliates by taking one of them and sticking it up his nose.

"So the Alpha does know how to have fun, albeit gross fun. Why am I not surprised?" I chuckle, wiping my soiled finger on his shirt. "Have you never snorted before, McCall?" I ask in disbelief, poking him in the chest and snagging a pretzel from the nearly empty bag. "Besides, that wasn't exactly one of my sexiest moments, if it wasn't obvious." I mention casually, looking at him watching me.

"I don't know, it's not exactly on my sexy list either, but for you I could make an exception." He sits and ponders."And me? Never. I'll leave those sexy, little quirks to you." His laugh fills the room and I grab the pillow next to me and chunk it at his head. He ducks and it lands on the floor behind him which causes his laughter to increase.

"Stupid True Alpha...with stupid, perfect reflexes." I grumble, jutting my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

Scott ruffles my hair and slaps a wet kiss on my cheek which makes me internally sigh, not that I'd ever admit it. I'm already tomato red as it is, he doesn't need to know how much I've been crushing on him for a while now. "Awh, don't be mad 'Lia, we can't all have perfect aim." He sits back to his side of the bed with a wink with causes me to giggle. When did I become such a girl?  


A devious idea goes through my head and a smile slips onto my face. "You know, you're right, Scott. Silly me, my aim is terrible." I say feigning nonchalance, crawling over to him slowly. I run my fingers through his silky brown curls and lay an innocent kiss behind his ear. "Sorry, I can't seem to find your lips, you know with my faulty aim and all." A groan leaves Scott's lips, knowing exactly what I was doing, but he makes no move or protest for me to stop. In fact, he pulls me onto his lap, which terrifies and excites me all at once.

I tease him and try again, laying hot kisses across his jaw and down the slope of his neck, trying to not get distracted by his woodsy scent that makes my eyes flutter when I inhale him.  


"Mmm... Still not there." I muse cheekily, continuing my search. Scott's hands tighten deliciously around my waist in a way that demands authority and I find myself loving the power in his touch. Weirdly, I never took myself for the submissive type. Being dominant gave me some semblance of control when all my life I felt like it was never there to begin with. But letting go with Scott is almost effortless in how my body and instincts seems to fall into his, feeling this sense of relief at his presence. Being with him, I'm not afraid to let go.

His eyes flash hungrily and his hands make lazy patterns on my back, leaving hot trails from where he grazed the exposed skin below the faded crop top.

"'Lia... You're killing me." He lets out a throaty gasp with only spurs me on. He's clutching at my hips and I almost give in, but I reluctantly pull away. I shush him with a finger to his rosy, bruised lips and he kisses it softly. I get this fuzzy feeling in my stomach and the apples of my cheeks are stained pink. However, I find a way to squash it down and tell him that he's not allowed to touch before resuming my exploration.

"I... think.. I may... be getting closer." I smirk, catching the corner of his mouth with a brush of my lips and scraping against them with my blunt teeth. I whisper, "Damnit, I missed again." Chuckling, I watch his reaction with a look of pure enjoyment.

His eyes spark red and he flips us over, my back hitting the plush, green comforter of his bed. My gaze is fixated on the little bit of smudged pink lip gloss that glitters near the corner of his mouth. I lean up into the space between us and he doesn't move back. "How am I doing..." I tease. "Am I getting closer?" I question flirtatiously before closing the short distance between us and making love to his mouth, taking my time and letting each press of my lips meeting his linger longer than the last.

He nuzzles my nose with his and presses his forehead against mine before taking a breath and closing the gap again. I think my new favorite thing in this world is kissing Scott McCall. Our eyes close as we get lost in each other until they finally open. We're so close that our eyelashes tangle together and his big, brown eyes stun me into a confession.

"This feels familiar... Natural, even." I say shyly with a close-lipped smile, lacing our fingers together and looking down at them curiously. The sensation is so new and compelling. I'm reveling in it.

Scott is absolutely beaming. "You don't know how long I've wanted to be with you this way. I know were not like 'together' or even remotely close to putting a label on this, but you make me happy and I want you to know that." Scott admits proudly, moving off of me and pulling me into his arms so that we are cuddling.

"You make me happy, too, in so many ways. Even before I figured out what I felt for you was so much more." My reply comes out easily, the truth pouring out of me once I sit there and realize how blind I had been to what was always right in front of me.

Scott kisses my forehead and I let out a content sigh. I could get used to this. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were going to ruin me, but in a good way." He confesses, making my heart skip a beat. He scratches my scalp and pets my hair while pulling me closer, lulling me into a dream-filled sleep induced by the lethargy in my bones and the feel of Scott's chest beneath my hand. As soon as my eyes shut I feel weightless and safe, reminded that he's still there every time I feel his heart beat against my palm. I'm enveloped in his warmth and for once, the world drowns out for a while, giving me the best sleep I've had in a long time.

We wake up a couple hours later to the smell of spaghetti and meatballs that lures us down the stairs. Melissa sits at the table, shrugging off her lab coat and withdrawing her perfect curls from her pony tail. "Hey guys, I brought food home. Malia, are you staying for dinner?" She asks hopefully, looking at us with a small smile on her face.

"Yes I'd love to, if that's okay with you." I pause and look up at Scott. "And you." I chuckle. A secret look passes between us that doesn't go unnoticed by Melissa.

Scott throws his arm around my shoulder. "My home is your home, 'Lia Pia."

My eyes roll, naturally.

The nickname is new. But surprisingly, I like it. Even if it is super dorky. I guess it makes sense because Scott is a big dork, but he's my big dork. So just the fact that he thought of it makes it cute. I guess I can tolerate it.

"I'll remember that when I steal the covers from you tonight" I say it quiet enough that Melissa can't hear, leaving a stunned Scott McCall on the stairs. I bat my eyelashes and giggle at his stunned expression, making my way to the dinner table. He seems to snap out of it quickly and he races to pull out the chair for me before doing the same for his mom.

"Aw honey, thank you. What's gotten into you today? Melissa asks, casting a side-eye my way, probably guessing why Scott was acting different.

I just grin and shrug, filling my plate with pasta and loading on the meatballs.

The chair next to me squeaks against the tile and Scott sits down. "So mom, how was your shift at the hospital?" I listen on with interest.

"It was great, sweetie. No supernatural drama or accelerated healing. Just a case of pneumonia, a broken leg, and an elderly woman who had a stroke. Nothing really exciting, just a normal work day. What about you guys, huh? You'll seem to have had a pretty good day together." Melissa says with her voice dripping in implication, not even trying to hide her curiosity. It's not that anything is glaringly different between the two of us, but she is his mom and she knows her son. She has to have picked up on the shifted dynamic between us.

Scott chokes on his water, spitting some on his shirt. I laugh and help him wipe it off with a paper towel on the table. "You're such a mess, McCall. Water and boogers are your specialty." I snort and he smirks. Oh yes, how could I forget? Snorting is the new sexy.

"Nothing much, we just hung out." Scott replies casually, turning back to face his food to avoid Melissa's penetrating gaze.

"Hey um Scott, sweetie, is that lip gloss on the corner of your mouth?" His mom points out, clearly catching him in a lie. And I'm absolutely mortified. I'm worried that Melissa will think that I'm not good enough for her son. I know that she likes me and I love her like a mom, and I would be devastated if she thought badly of me. She'd known Allison and Kira for a lot longer, both polite and well-mannered girls. And I'm not them. I could never measure up to them.

As if she can read my thoughts, Melissa puts her hand over mine, causing me to look over at her. She gives me a genuine smile, looking at me with the same brown eyes that mirrored Scott's. She leans in. "I know. Don't worry, Malia, you're my favorite." She whispers in my ear and grins. My tight-lipped smile evens out into a soft quirk of my lips, thanking her with my eyes and hoping she understood how much that means to me.

"Mom..." Scott groans, rolling his eyes in embarrassment.

"What? I'm just giving you a hard time. You'll spend so much time together, you had to know that I was bound to ask eventually. You guys are so cute..." She gushes.  
"MOM..." Scott says louder this time with his face in his hands, pleading with her to stop talking.

"Okay, okay I'm sorry. I'm done." She says, raising her hands in surrender, letting a giggle or two pass her lips.

I chuckle at the embarrassment on Scott's face and whisper, "It's okay, I dig mama's boys." The look on his face is priceless.

He pouts adorably, "I'm not a mama's boy..."

"What was that, Scott?" Melissa blurts out with narrowing eyes in his direction.

"I said I love you, mom." He improvises, giving her an award-winning smile.

She chuckles and playfully swats him from across the table. "Nice save."

We eat in a comfortable silence.

"... I don't need to have the safe sex talk with you guys, right?" Melissa lets slip. She's probably been holding that in for a while now.

"MOM!" Scott whines, getting ready to pull his hair out.

Melissa gets up and puts her dishes in the sink. "Okay sorry! That was the last of my meddling, I'm going to bed..." She promises, making her way up the stairs.

Scott sighs in relief, glad that she couldn't interrogate him anymore. His face is flushed from humiliation.

"Use a condom!" She hollers from the top step, before disappearing behind the corner.

"Oh my god..." He chuckles bashfully, looking at me through his lashes.

"I"m sorry, 'Lia, you know how my mom is." He apologizes, moving his fork around his plate in a way to sway the attention from himself.

I try to suppress my laugh, but it comes out in spurts. "Scott, it's okay. I think it's great that you have a mom that loves and care about you so much. Not all of us are that lucky so don't take it for granted." I chastise lightly, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I love your mom. I'm just glad she likes me, too."

"How could she not? You're kind of, totally awesome." He enthuses, running his fingers through my wild hair.

"You're just a softy, aren't you, Scoot McCute." I say with a straight face before I can't take it anymore and I fall over laughing. My belly hurts and I'm starting to cramp up from the compulsive giggles that bubble up from my stomach and out my throat.

"Ha ha, you're so funny. You should be a comedian." Scott jokes, clearly amused. He's trying so hard not to smile but it's okay because his eyes do it for him. God, they're so pretty. Big, brown, endless depths of chocolate.

"I'm serious, who knew the True Alpha could be delicate? You're so sweet, I could eat you." I say, not realizing the innuendo that hides between the lines. The air crackles and charges my skin when those eyes of his light me on fire. He's staring at me so good and hard I can feel myself burning underneath his gaze. It's a naked feeling, an unearthing of sorts. My body instantly responds.

"I could eat you." He says with a thick timbre, filled with lust.

I arch a perfect brow at him. Logic aside, my hormones are going into overdrive. It's been so long since I've been with someone, and never someone as amazing as Scott. I don't want to mess this up, so we have to go slow. "Easy there, I might just take you up on that offer one day. But beware, I bite." I sass, giving him flirty eyes and my lips part to catch my breath.

"How about a rain check and we settle for ice cream, instead?" He suggests, his eyes still fixated on my lips.

"I can work with that."

Scott's POV: I pull out a tub of rocky road ice cream with one bowl and two spoons. I dollop some whip cream on top and drizzle it with chocolate sauce just the way she likes it. Her eyes are ravenous and she nearly snatches the bowl out of my hands, attacking the sugary goodness as soon as I set it down.

She's so cute, even with the chocolate on her nose.

She takes a big spoonful of ice cream and puts it into her mouth, savoring every moment with a moan of satisfaction. Her full lips wrap around the spoon and I feel my pants tighten uncomfortable and my palms begin to sweat. I've never been more envious of a kitchen utensil in my life.

She looks up at me, doing that thing with her wide, bambi eyes that makes my throat dry and my breath to quicken And that stupid spoon is still in her mouth.

I had something on my mind all day and I felt like I really needed to tell her. I don't want any things left unsaid between us. "You know 'Lia, I was pretty jealous when you said that you thought that someone else was your anchor. I was being dumb and I walked away from you, and that's not me. So I'm sorry." I explained.

She doesn't say anything for a long time. She continues eating her ice creaming, licking the chocolate off her fingers. After a few minutes, she replies, "I don't know why it bugged you so much. You're not just my Alpha, you're my best friend. I would lay down my life for you. Just because someone else may have been the link to my humanity doesn't make you mean any less to me."

"I know... I guess I was just scared. I still am. We don't know who this person is, who they are or were to any of us. What if you guys were, you know... Together? Maybe that's why he or she was your anchor." I point out, already mentally slapping myself for even bringing it up. What if she'd never thought out that before and I just opened the flood gates.

Her brows furrow in frustration. "And what if we did? This person is gone, it doesn't change anything. If it came down to it, I would chose you. I will always choose you, Scott." She yells, getting up in my face with her nostrils flared and a deep scowl on her face. "You know me. You know my dreams and what I'm passionate about. You know how much I hate to cry and all about my childhood. You see my flaws and for some insane reason you love them. And I know you, so please don't question whether or not this is real, okay? It took me so long to get to this point and I don't want your insecurities ruining it, McCall, got it? You're all I have and all I want." She shaking at this point. Her hands, her arms, her legs. Her bottom lip quivers and her jaw clenches and unclenches trying to stay in control.

I grab her by the chin and force her to look at me. "No more doubts, I promise. It's you and me against the world, 'Lia Pia." I vow, cupping her cheeks and stealing a chaste kiss.  


She chuckles and bites her lip. "The world and us, Scoot McCute."


	10. When He Sees Her, It's Like Tunnel Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Stakes By Vancouver Sleep Clinic, Sparks By Coldplay, and We Move Lightly By Dustin O'Halloran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I know it's been a painfully long time since I've updated this fic. My muse was just not there and I didn't want to give y'all a sloppy, half-done chapter. So to make up for it, this chapter is long. Actually, it's the longest chapter I think I've ever written, lol. I really hope y'all enjoy it. And also, I want to thank the lovely TheFlashFics94 for helping me get through writing this chapter and kick-starting my inspiration again. Love you! Check out her Scalia story, 'Whenever You're Ready' it's amazing!

Malia sits Indian-style on the floor of Lydia's immaculately done room. A crystal chandelier hangs above her bed, star-lights trickling down from the ceiling, pristine white bed sheets giving off a cozy vibe, and an ivory vanity where she is currently sitting. Lydia brushes through her long, strawberry blonde hair, working the tangles out of the bottom in long strokes. Malia stares, fascinated just watching her. She remembers how the other girl used to intimidate her when she had first joined the pack. Her 5'3" stature didn't deter from her sharp tongue, glossy lips, and all around beauty that fell off of her in waves. She reminds Malia of a fairy.

Lydia catches the werecoyote watching her through the reflection in the mirror and turns to her. "Do you want me to do yours?" She asks, a peek of a smile curling in the corner of her lips. "Okay" She nods, gracing the other girl with her own toothy grin.

Malia sits between her legs and shakes her hair out of the makeshift braid she had sloppily put together before she had came over. Deciding to return the favor, she picks up two nail polish bottles, gesturing towards Lydia. "Pink or purple?" She asks, wide doe eyes making Lydia's smile grow. "Pink." She says, reaching over to her mini fridge and pulling out a bottle of red wine. She pops the cork open with a sigh. "I can tell we have things to talk about, you haven't stopped smiling since you got here. I take it things went well with Scott. Now it's time to dish all the dirty details, so drink up Tate."

Malia chuckles, taking a swig of the wine and passing it back to Lydia. Her and the banshee had never been the type of friends to paint each other's toenails, play with each other's hair, or gossip over a bottle of wine. It just wasn't them. However, Malia was feeling especially nice today after her talk with Scott. Lydia had been right, (when is she not), and now they were finally at a place that she was comfortable with opening up.

The red head starts kneading her scalp, running her fingers through her hair and starting what looked to be a fishtail braid. Malia missed braiding her hair. When she had chopped all of her hair off to her chin she hadn't realized at the time what she was giving up. Such a small thing was able to make her happy. She's been thinking about growing it out really long again.

"We kissed." Malia admits, the bubbling feeling in her chest finally overflowing until she explodes and tells Lydia.

"So now that you know that you like him, what made you realize it?"

"I think I've always known. Part of me didn't want to believe it. Giving him a chance would mean giving myself a chance to ruin it and he's been such a stable part of my life. I didn't want to lose him, ya know?" She confesses, hair forgotten as she turns to face Lydia.

"Sweetie, you could mess up a thousand times and Scott is the type of guy who would give you a thousand and one chances to fix it. There aren't many Scott McCalls in this world. So when you have him, hold on tight. Boys like that get snatched up faster than you know it."

Malia smiles softly. "I know... He's amazing."

"Someone's got it bad." Lydia laughs, making Malia blush a faint pink. When did she become such a blushing betty? She needed to reign that in, it was starting to make her look soft. She takes a pillow from off the floor and chunks it at her friend's head. And then Lydia says the one thing that brings her back to reality."But what about Kira? What if she comes back?"

Malia stills. How had she forgotten about Kira? The fiery kitsune had been one of the first people that she'd felt comfortable opening up to. She considered the girl her best friend. Her laugh used to make Malia smile, something that at one point had been hard to achieve, especially during her first few months since the transition. She would bite the heads off of anyone who got too close to her but one day Kira pulled her into her small arms when she'd found out that Malia had gotten a C+ on one of her homework assignments. But while she did love Kira, was it enough to let go of her budding feelings for Scott?

She didn't even consider what Kira would think about her feelings. Technically she still had claim to him, right? Those were the rules of the Wild Kingdom. Malia knew the rules and knew them well, living the life of survival for so long. She had made the mistake of encroaching on a mountain lion's territory once. That left her with a torn ear and a broken leg. What a bitch that was to heal. And it still left a crescent moon scar on her there and a big one on her leg. No one knew about it because she's never let anyone get that far.

While Kira may be a slight problem, she's not sure if that's the only thing holding her back. Fear of rejection sits well into her skin, stemming from the relationship she never got to have with her biological mom. If her own blood couldn't even love her, how could she possibly believe that Scott could one day? But she's getting way ahead of herself. Love is way out of her line of sight. She's known lust before, infatuation being a little bit of a reach. The feeling of never being good enough for a guy as wholesome as Scott rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't want to corrupt him. Like Lydia said, there's only so many Scott McCalls in this world.

Scott is good and kind. Malia is a little rough around the edges. Two kinds of people who simply aren't meant to be together. He's been her person for a while now, always offering her a shoulder to lean on. She has many favorites: favorite ice creams, places, and smells. Is it weird to have a favorite person? If not, Scott is it.

Her feelings for Scott were also so new and fresh, surely she could go back to the way they were, right? She'd come to realize that emotions are so fickle in humans. Her fear is falling; hard and shamelessly for her best friend and him deciding one day that he doesn't want her back.

Lydia snaps her fingers in front of the brunette's face. "Malia... where did you go? I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to hurt you. Everything will be fine. We don't even know if Kira will ever come back. She couldn't hold onto him forever. I love her, but Scott moved on. And he's choosing you."

Deciding to let Lydia believe that Kira is the main reason for her hesitation, Malia shoots up off the ground, towering over Lydia's height. "But I can't choose him. It's not right."

"Malia..." Lydia calls, grabbing her hand and pulling her down to sit on the bed with her. "You have to know, right?"

Malia shook her head in confusion. "Know what?"

Lydia rolls her eyes and looks at her like how her Calculus teacher looks at her when she hands back her test scores. "Scott has liked you for a while now, even if he didn't realize it at the time. I'd catch his eyes wandering to you sometimes. At first I thought it was merely concern. But then I started noticing it more and it was different from how he looked at Kira, not how a friend should look at a friend." She emphasizes, looking Malia directly in the eye. "I remember the panic he felt when he found out you had been shot, it was almost frantic. He spent the rest of the night running around trying to find out where you were so he could go see you. And to you that may not seem out of the ordinary, but I've known Scott a long time. I've never seen him look so scared to lose someone like he did with you. With Allison, that was understandable. She was his first love and she died. With Kira, she was lucky enough to have not been fatally wounded. But with you, it was different. You weren't dating. You weren't as close. So why was he so worried about you?"

Malia worries her lip between her teeth as her deep brown eyes sink to the ground. She wanted him, wanted all the things he could make her feel. And she was curious of how she could make him feel, too. The intrigue crashed into her like a tidal wave, but the fear of unacceptance weighed heavier, stripping her down to the memory of her fur pelt and the lost sea of blue that swam in her eyes. Before she would have done anything to be a coyote again and now she can't think of anything lonelier.

"It's crazy when I think about it. Since meeting Scott, I've actually found myself wishing for more time. More time to adapt and to cope. I've wanted more time to get over this anxiety that swallows me every time I turn the lights off." Malia says admittedly, looking to see Lydia's reaction.

"You're afraid of the dark?"

"It's not something I like to talk about."

"But you spent so much time in the woods, surely you would have become used to it?"

"Lydia,"

Lydia bites her tongue, deciding when it's best to choose her battles. "Sorry, continue."

Malia rubs her chin. "Scott's always been there, being the most compassionate person I know even when I say something dumb or speak tactlessly. And for some reason he sees me, Lydia. Me. I can never be good enough for him. Not like Kira was. And I definitely could never measure up to the ghost of Allison." A watery smile haunts her face. "Without even knowing her, I can tell that she was indescribable. She left a hole in all of you for a long time, especially you, Lydia." She grasps her friend's porcelain skin between her sun-kissed palms as tears start to spill from the banshee's eyes. "In a way, I feel like I would be betraying her, too."

"She was... She still is. I miss her so much sometimes. And I think she would have loved you. You guys are similar in a way. Passionate, both of you loving hard." She wipes her tears. "But she was also kind and smart. And so are you. You're both fiercely loyal to a fault. I see Scott has a type." She chuckles, smoothing out her hair with her free hand. "Having had the honor to know her and to call her my best friend, I know that she loved Scott and she would want him to be happy. I have an inkling that Kira would want the same."

"Maybe you're right. I'm such a mess." Malia admonishes, running her finger over the mangled scar that splits the top of her left ear.

"You're scared." Lydia points out.

"Yeah, I am. I can't lose anybody else. I'm so tired of losing people." She sighs, the very thought of his warm brown eyes breaks her heart.

"You haven't lost me. And you don't have to lose him." She says. "Just think on it before you do anything, okay?"

"Alright, I won't make any rash decisions. At least not without talking to Scott first."

She turns the knob and walks out, all her courage falling flat against her heavy shoulders.

Making the long trek to Scott's house, she talks herself through what she'll say to him.

She lied straight to Lydia's face.

"This was a mistake."

"This just won't work."

"We have to let this go."

She winces when she reaches his street. The beautiful house now feels like an eye sore that she wishes to avoid. There's only one heart beat in the home. Melissa must not be there. That leaves her, Scott, and a bunch of white noise suffocating them. The heavy footfalls of her boots feel so loud against her ears, thunderous steps crunching the gravel against the pavement. Her eyes look up at his window and she sees his silhouette, looming and dazzling in the shadowed periphery she witnesses. He doesn't even realize she's there and she's glad that he doesn't because then she gets to watch him for a little longer. He's staring up at the moon from his rooftop, a fading trail of a crooked smile fixed against her favorite crooked jaw that has managed to swim its way into her very own crooked heart. She knows that he used to be self-conscious about it, as if it made him any less handsome. Scott oozed ruggedness and masculinity, something that drew her to him when they first laid eyes on each other from her spot on the dirt-covered ground sprawled naked and bare for his eyes to bestow her. A fire lit under her skin that day, chipping away at the dreadful cold that felt like ice in her veins.

She climbs the scaling of the brick stone, two-story house unnoticed. She had gotten good at moving silently as a coyote. Making her way up the side of the brickstone, she takes a seat beside him. His woodsy smells envelops her senses, an intimate sigh leaving her lips. "What's got you thinking so hard?" She opens with, letting him know of her presence.

His soulful brown eyes pierce her when he jumps at her voice.

Her mouth grows dry.

"Did I scare you?"

His grin widens, "Maybe a little bit." Eyes narrowing amused, "I'm just surprised to see you here."

Malia squats down next to him, bumping his shoulder along the way. "I wanted to come over and check on you."

"Did you miss me already?" He teases, eye sparkling with mischief.

She beams. "Maybe a little bit." She says, mirroring his words.

"Well to answer your question, I was thinking about you. And I kind of miss you, too." He grabs her hand hesitantly, lacing their fingers together.

"I wasn't sure when I'd see you again. I hope I didn't scare you off." His voice rattles when he admits it, a hint of nervousness in his eyes and his movements clumsy and unsure. His vulnerability is showing and it's so refreshing. Not that he's insecure, but the fact that he's not afraid to show that he cares. Malia doesn't really know what that looks like, having a guy look at you like you're something to lose. His presence bores into her and a she feels like closing the space in between them.

They sit in silence for a while.

"You're really quiet tonight, what are you thinking about?" He prods, giving her his full attention.

She looks at him but doesn't say anything.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He assures her quickly, not wanting her to feel obligated to tell him. He wanted her to come to him on her own and confide in him because she wants to.

"I have something to tell you." She says, finally looking up at him with a tight-lipped smile.

Scott senses her distress, knowing what she wanted to say before she even spoke. It was getting easier to read her facial expressions. His favorite dimple didn't divot into her cheek. Her eyes didn't crinkle in the corners. And her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

"Is it about us?"

She chuckles lightly, hiding her sadness by shielding her face until she can compose herself. "Something like that." She grimaces, eye lashes fanning around her sienna orbs.

His nimble fingers draw a stray piece of hair that had escaped the braid behind her ear where his fingers draw patterns on the sensitive skin there.

He notices the crescent scar that splits the top of her left ear.

"When did that happen?"

"It happened before I knew you guys. Being a coyote, I had to run to survive and I came upon land that had already been claimed. A mountain lion took a bite out of my ear. I fought him off, the laceration I took to my back being my other secret battle scar." She explains, rolling the straps of her tank top down to expose the creamy skin that lies beneath. It is hidden well, the deep jagged scar that starts beneath her shoulder blade and trails about half way down her back. "It's hideous, I know." She doesn't stutter, but she sounds so small. Her frown is crestfallen and closed off, and he can see the wall she's built up when he doesn't say anything. It doesn't escape Scott's attention that she won't look at him now.

Scott touches the tender skin that sits stark white against her olive complexion. Malia flinches, not because of his hands, but the fact that he's seeing this side of her. And he's still willing to touch her. The many facets of Scott never cease to amaze her.

"I've never seen this before. I don't think any of the pack has." He says, looking her in the eye before drawing his eyes back to her skin. "It's strange how our old scars don't quite heal. Heightened senses and strength don't change who we are underneath it all. These little inconsistencies that are essentially an engraved part of us are the one thing we get to keep that reminds us that we're still human."

Malia nods in agreement, identifying with his explanation in a really personal way. "My long hair always covered it well. But then I decided one day that I wanted to chop it all off. I didn't want to hide anymore." She says with finality, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge the longer he keeps his hand there.

"How did none of us ever notice? We've seen you naked plenty of times." He says and then cringes at how that came out. He coughs awkwardly, removing his hand. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable. She moves his hand back instantly and the little action makes his heart swell.

He runs his finger over the scar with the gentleness of a caress, tracing the lines that zig-zag similarly to a lightening bolt. He moves closer to her to where his legs part around her and she sits between him, her own legs tucked up to her chin between her arms. She creates her own little bubble, easing herself into the realization that Scott is becoming familiar with a part of her that no one else has come close to experiencing. The scar isn't little. Actually, it's huge. It's rough and jagged, a deformation that shines silver in the moonlight. Scott continues making paths on the scar tissue while Malia sits there quivering like a leaf.

"Do you want me to stop?" Scott asks, sensitive as ever to the sloshing of her heart. He zeros in on her as a whole, knowing how hard this was for her to share but being honored that she trusted him enough to show him.

Malia shakes her head. "No, I've needed to do this." She asserts, swallowing the lump in her throat. Scott bends down and kisses the scar, looking up into her eyes that now fill with tears. "You never have to hide anything from me, you know. This doesn't make you any less gorgeous."

She blushes at his sentiment.

This is what he's come to find about Malia. She's authentic. She doesn't pretend to be something she's not. What's the point in sugarcoating who you are? This is him and she is her and strangely, they fit.

Scott rolls up the cotton of his sleeve. If you aren't looking close enough, you'll miss it. Against his shoulder is a flesh colored scar in the shape of a distorted oval.

Malia inspects it closer. Her fingernails trace the outline, careful not to dig into his skin and open it up. Scott is far from delicate, but Malia still worries about hurting him. "I'm assuming this has a story behind it?" Her statement coming out more as a question. Her big eyes are almost comical, the concern floating behind them.

Scott fights a smile. "When I was eight years old, my dad came home late one night. He and my mom were having problems at the time which inevitably led to their divorce. He smelled like piss and booze, his red-rimmed eyes swimming with confusion. I don't even know how he made it home that night." He whispers, taken back to the moment that his mom still doesn't know about. "My mom was working a late shift at the hospital. The sheriff offered to babysit me but I convinced my mom that I was a 'big boy' and could stay home by myself." A somber smile pulls against his lips. "I guess he thought I should have been in bed already. I watched him from the top of the stairs as he crawled up to meet me. He finally got to his feet, grabbed ahold of my arm and shook me hard." He rubs the back of his neck as the memory itches way at him. "He lost his balance and accidentally pushed me down the stairs. I remember hitting my head on the way down and something sharp piercing my shoulder. He couldn't believe what he'd done. He stumbled down the stairs, took me in his arms and just cried. He begged me not to tell my mom. He took me to a 24 hour emergency center in the town over. From that day on, I insisted that I take showers without my mom's help because I didn't want her to see what he did to me."

An influx of blue fills Malia's eyes. "Why didn't you tell Melissa, Scott? He shouldn't have gotten away with abusing you, it's not right." She bites out, anger and hate for a man she doesn't even know engulfing her.

Scott shrugs. "I had hope that one day we'd be a family again."

Malia quiets at that. She never realized how much Scott's home life paralleled her own. Single parent? Check. Having a dead beat father? Double check. Maybe they were more alike then she thought. His hand finds her cheek.

Relishing in his touch could only last so long. "Scott, we need to talk."

He takes in her rigid posture and defiant chin. "Oh no, you've got your serious face on. Either you have something really bad to tell me or... You farted." He jokes to calm his nerves.

"Scott..."

He waits patiently for her to speak.

"Scott... I-" She tries again and this time she finds the words to say. "I'm worried what Kira will think about us having feelings for each other. You guys were so good together, why do you even like me? Her and I are complete opposites and-,"

His face splits into a lopsided smile that stretches from ear to ear.

He cuts her off mid-sentence and shushes her with a kiss. His lips are so soft and warm, his heat and emotion spilling out of his mouth and into hers like a exchange of confessions where words were not needed. He pulls away but it's her who pulls him back, nails digging into his dark curls and drinking him in. She feels so good right here, wrapped up in Scott and forgetting about everything else. His blunt teeth scrapping against her bottom lip is euphoric and delicious, his skin pressed against hers so hard, the lines of their bodies blurring together until it's impossible to distinguish where his ends and hers begins.

Comeliness fills the gaps between the stars and Malia wonders how something that tastes so right could possibly be wrong.

He releases her lips, "Kira and I are at different points in our lives. We just don't fit together anymore and that's okay, it just happens sometimes. But that's besides the point. I like you, 'Lia. If I wanted to be with her or anyone else, I would be. But somehow I always find my way back to you. So if you don't want to be with me, then tell me now. But if you do, then what's really stopping you?"

"I just also seem to get in my own way. I figure that if you've loved and fallen out of love with someone as amazing as Kira, who's to say that won't happen to us?"

He kisses her palm. "I can't promise you that I'm going to feel the same way I do in this moment ten years from now, nobody can promise that. Life doesn't work that way. But what I can promise is that right now, I've never felt anything like this before." He admits. "You're different from Allison and Kira, but a good different. Before, I felt like I was living on borrowed time. But with you time slows down. I like the pace we're going."

She looks at him with so much emotion and she finds it within herself to finally let go of the control she's been clutching at and just see where things lead with Scott.

"I always thought I was the one trying to make you a little more reckless, but somehow you are the one getting me out of my shell. How did that happen?" She chuckles, falling into his arms and looking up at him with romantic eyes.

His smile outshines the moon. Her favorite crooked smile and those damn cheeky dimples. Good god, those dimples could kill her on sight.

She hops up from her spot next to him on the flat plane of the roof and dances towards the window sill. "And if we're hanging out, you know that I have dibs on the last popsicle in the freezer that I know you've secretly been saving for me." She jokes, getting up to sneak inside his house through the open window.

He follows her through the window, his bare feet touching the hardwood floor of his room. She stands near the foot of his bed before sashaying over to him after discarding her boots, an extra pep in her step.

"Oh I see, you only keep me around for my frozen delights. Typical, Tate. Real nice." He says with with mock sadness, placing his hand over his heart. "You wound me." His big brown, puppy dog eyes flash momentarily and Malia just swats him on the chest.

She rolls her eyes. "You're such a goofball. Besides, what's wrong with having both? I think you'd make an adorable werewolf freezy-pop."

He perks up at her words. "I would be pretty cute, wouldn't I?

She pats him on the cheek and ruffles his hair in a sneak attack, jumping into his arms. Her long legs wrap around his waist and her arms hang around his neck. "Yeah yeah, sure McCall. Don't go getting a big head." She winks, a teasing smile lighting up her face.

"You're beautiful," He states, the sentence coming out almost instantaneous with a collective calmness that follows. He rests his forehead against hers. "You're always beautiful."

He says it in a way that leaves no room for doubt. She blushes in his arms, something that was becoming quite the habit around him. She shrugs in his embrace, poking him in the nose with her finger, "So are you."

He laughs at that, taking her hand in his and pressing them against his chest. "You think I'm beautiful, 'Lia?" He teases.

"Why else would I be sticking around? The popsicles are to die for, but you're not too bad on the eyes, either." She whispers flirtatiously, closing the gaping hole of his mouth with her index finger. His expression is priceless. She finds new things she loves about him every day.

"It feels good to leave you speechless for once, you never stop talking." She continues to goad, poking him in the places that she knows he's ticklish.

He can't contain his laughter. "'Ugh, 'Lia. Not that, you promised you'd never use my weakness against me!" He shouts over the sound of his own laughing, trying to escape her wrath. However, Malia is quite strong so it's no easy feat.

She rubs her chin. "Well I guess I lied. Payback is a bitch, huh?" She taunts, poking him one more time before racing into the haven of his bed, the sheets and comforter acting as a shield against the onslaught of retaliation she's sure to receive.

His wolfish eyes rake over her and she lets out a breathy sigh at the heat that trickles down her thighs. "You've been a bad girl, Miss Tate." He says with a comical raise of his brows and a goofy grin, advancing on her with no where for her to hide. She jumps off the bed but he's faster, cornering her up against the bathroom door. Even with the slight lust dripping from his voice, his playful eyes still sparkle at her.

He pins her against the door, his body hovering over hers so close that she can feel the rumbles of his chest vibrating against her body.

Malia believes that she must be insane. Because if she wasn't, she wouldn't have placed her hand against his chest, raising on her tip toes until they're eye to eye. His gaze drops to her lips and hers do the same before they both look back up and meet each other head on.

"I want to kiss you." He says boldly, something that is uncharacteristic of his usual timid behavior. His eyes flash red and his lips draw a path against her collarbone, leaving scorching kisses across until his mouth collides with her shoulder. He places a small kiss there as well, fire burning her alive every where he touches.

Her fingers are shaking, itching to rip his t-shirt to shreds and give into the desire that coils in her belly. She is no stranger to sex, the feeling being the first sense of gratification she had experienced as a human by a boy with pale skin and dark hair.

Her mind flashes wildly, images of caramel eyes, inky brown hair, and mole-covered pale skin flipping though her skull like a turning page.

She gasps, the breath leaving her lungs where she falls into Scott's protective arms in the semblance of a panic attack? She's never had one of these before. But somehow she knows that is exactly what is happening. Her eyes screw shut, a word echoing through the recesses of her soul.

Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles... Stiles...

What the hell is a Stiles?

She... can't remember.

She's hyperventilating, praying for the oxygen to find it's way back into her lungs. She's quivering from a nonexistent cold, the chill slithering up her arms and down her legs. She keeps hearing the word ringing through her ears, causing the shallow blue of her eyes to flicker like a faulty lamp.

"'Lia, what's wrong!" Scott urges, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up in one of his blankets. It was her favorite one that she loved to cuddle with in the middle of the night when she wasn't clinging to him beneath the sheets.

He smooths the hair out of her face, pulling her into his chest with his cheek resting against her head.

"Breathe, Malia, Breathe..." He instructs, bringing her out of his arms just enough for her to look at him. He lets out puffs of air slowly, willing her to try it. She mirrors his breathing, in and out until the creeping feeling on the back of her neck begins to subside.

Her eyes are frightened and scared. "He's all alone." She whispers, the sound of it breaking Scott's heart.

"Who is all alone?" He asks, rubbing circles on the small of her back.

"I'm not sure... But I think his name is Stiles." She divulges, wide eyes blinking back tears.

"What did you see, Malia?" He asks, curious and anxious to uncover any little piece of the ghost rider mystery that had all of their insides stirring.

"I know who was taken from us. I saw a boy: lean, pale skin, brown hair, moles covering his cheeks, a red and black plaid flannel, and he was curled up in a ball... He was crying." She croaks, tears stuck in her throat. She didn't know why she was getting so emotional. She hardly ever cried, but something tells her that this isn't the first time she's cried over this guy.

"...You think it's him?" He asks hesitantly, coaxing her into a state of comfort. Her frenzy had caught him off guard and it worried him that he may not be able to protect her the way this other person was able to. Malia believes that this guy they have forgotten was her anchor and their friend. Scott remembers the hollowing disappointment when the words had first left her mouth. It left a bitter taste on his tongue. Insecurity bleeds through his veins. Was he a monster for sullenly hoping that they never got him back?

She nods her head, holding his eyes. "I know it's him. It has to be."

Scott looks at her searchingly, digging for any lost love or waves of recognition to cross her eyes, but he finds nothing. The rock in his throat lessens and his heart loses a little less of it's nervousness. He knows he promised her that he wouldn't doubt them anymore, but how could he not when just a small piece of this stranger brought her to tears?

Malia catches on to his thoughts and turns his head to face her with the palm of her hands that caress his jaw. "Hey, don't do that. If I'm not allowed to be broody and cynical about all the ways that we could inevitably fall apart then neither can you, Scott. Him.. This, it's nothing. Yes, this guy probably meant something to me at one point, but I know what I feel for you." She confesses, jaw clenched and eyes determined.

His eyes are downcast and a frown pulls at his lips. "I don't want to lose you, 'Lia."

She pulls him into a deep kiss, pouring all her emotions into one press of lips. "You have me, Scott. You always have me."

Her head falls onto his chest and he instinctively runs his fingers through the tawny, copper-brown of her hair. "You'll always have me, too." He promises, brushing her nose with the back of his thumb. "I want to hold your hand" He says timidly, a shy brush of his fingers touching hers until he moves his hand closer to the point where they overlap. "Is this okay?"

She rubs her cheek against the back of the hand that's mingled with hers. "Yeah, this is okay. This is perfect, actually."

"Now the real question is, are you okay?" He counters.

There's no point in lying, he could detect the uptick of her heart the moment she even considered not telling the truth.

She scrunches her nose and her eyebrows knit together. "No, I'm not okay. But I will be." Assurance radiating in her tone, she lets go of his hand and racing over to his closet and emerges with an armful of blankets and pillows.

"Will you build a fort with me? I need an escape from reality." She pleads, her bottom lip jutting out adorably and her almond brown eyes pleading him.

His eyes narrow, "Fort... And we share the freezy pop. And I get to pick the movie."

She sticks out her tongue. "Geez, and just when I was starting to think that you were a gentleman, McCall." She gabs at him, blatantly throwing off her tank top and shorts in simple, unabashed Malia fashion. There she stands with her wild hair in a disarray around her, half naked in only her bra and underwear and giving him a view of her long, tan legs that go on for miles. She's so untamed in her beauty, her hair a mess of browns and golds that he pictures sticking wildflowers in after an afternoon in the rain. Her lips taste like cherry cola and her eyes are the warmest brown he's ever known. Her feral nature tended to scare others off, but to Scott it only enhanced her unruly spirit. Those who fear her either don't know her or left her with a reason to be feared. At one point he might have thought the same thing, but now he only sees her as a girl. The girl he is determined to call his.

"I am a gentleman." He quips, a cheeky smile resting on his face.

He covers his eyes with his hand while peeking through the slips of his fingers, proving her point when she catches him looking. But she doesn't mind, she knows it's all innocent fun. Like he said, they've all seen her naked at one point or another. But this time his eyes are only for her and the thought spurs her own form of torture by intentionally dressing slower.

He catching flashes of taut, olive skin glowing faintly under the tempered, warm light that halos his room. The low light makes for an intimate setting, while also having something to do with one of his faded hoodies Malia throws over her head before stepping into a pair of his boxers. He loves the sight of her in his clothes. It brings out a possessiveness in him that he didn't even know he was capable of. But he can't help it. He revels in the way his smell clings to her skin, imprinting her for all surrounding supernaturals and hormonal boys to know that she's spoken for. Whether officially or not isn't important.

Her gorgeous thighs flex against the fabric of his boxers, her vanilla and honeysuckle aroma encircling the two of them when she plops down in his lap unexpectedly.

"So what are we watching?

"How does 'The Body Guard' sound?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

"That's a hell yes from me! You know that's my favorite movie. I just thought you'd get tired of watching it with me for the thousandth time" She snickers, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"I could never get tired of you." He smiles, watching her own slant across her face.

She rolls her eyes. "I was talking about the movie, dumbass."

"I know." He smirks, spooning her from behind. She hums in approval.

"Is this why you like me?" Scott laughs.

"I guess I have a weakness for the heroes. Kevin Costner is still a babe at 62 years old."

Her off-handed comment makes him laugh. He loves how she just says what's on her mind.

"So then you like me because you think I'm a hero?" He clarifies, waiting for her answer.

"No, just because you're Scott." Is all she gives, a soft grin carving into the corners of her mouth until the lone dimple on her left cheek caves in.

And just like every time before this one, her endless brown eyes drink him in, her familiar lips easing into their home that's nestled in the crevice of her cheeks. Not even the sun could hold a flame to her in this element.

They build the fort, blankets flying while landing on Scott's head a few too many times for his liking which of course leads to a pillow fight war. When they settle down, she cuddles into his side, the multi-colored quilts and throws littering the floor and laid across their bodies.

"I'm surprised you let me be the big spoon." He chuckles, only laughing harder at the little growl that animates from her throat.

"I thought I'd let you keep your masculinity for tonight. But for tonight only." She warns, pointing a finger at him before snuggling deeper into his body. Her hand lays against his chest and his chin rests against her head. This was all they ever really needed.

Malia begins thinking.

"Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you had never became the True Alpha? Then again I guess that wouldn't really be an option because you're not a killer. If anyone deserves the title of True Alpha, it's you."

Scott squishes her cheeks together until her lips resemble a little fish and he rubs his nose against her cute little button one, making her giggle. "I'm not perfect, but I don't believe that my supernatural anatomy has to determine whether I'm a killer or not. He explains, but the part about killing sticks to Malia's brain.

She's killed before and part of her is afraid that one day she'll kill again. Some days she lays in bed and finds herself paralyzed underneath the weight of her guilt and loss. Every bad thing that she has ever done crushes her until she can't breathe.

Scott can smell her sadness and looks down to ask what's wrong, but her eyes beg him not to. So he complies with her wishes for now, wondering what had brought on the stench of hopelessness that cocooned around her more so than the blanket she's currently tangled in.

"We need to talk to Lydia and the rest of the pack in the morning about what I saw." She yawns sleepily, moving to her side of the fortress and getting in a comfortable position.

"OK, yeah. We'll call them tomorrow and schedule a pack meeting here."

"Hey Scott... Do you mind keeping the bathroom light on?" She murmurs, exhaustion overtaking her. "I usually have the hall light on back at my house... But I understand if you can't sleep with it on. She says self consciously.

"Sure 'Lia, I don't mind. Is everything alright?"

She screws her eyes shut. "Yeah. I just can't fall asleep in the dark, sometimes. I get really bad insomnia most nights, but some nights are fine. When it's bad, I have nightmares of the night that I killed my mom and Kylie. Other times it's of the Desert Wolf hunting me down. And once or twice a month it's memories of my dad setting out traps in the woods to capture and shoot me...

She decided to get up and go smoke a cigarette on his balcony. The nicotine on her lips calms the noise inside her head so Scott can't find it in him to ask her to quit the addictive cancer sticks. Her side profile is all that is seen with the moon's iridescent light hitting her just perfectly. Her hair is mussed and her cheeks flushed, a tantalizing combination that makes her appear soft and ethereal. It's amazing all the things you can find in a person when they don't know that you are looking. She takes a long pull from the cigarette, the smoke making her eyes hazy and red. She takes one more drag and then puts it out on the ash tray he had invested in since she was over so often. Even with the nicotine hum that lulls her body to a restful mood, he can still see that she's agitated. She climbs back into the pillows and blankets, resting her head against his abdomen.

Scott wishes he could absorb the pain out of her. He loses track of how long he just lays there with her in his arms, waiting for her to fall asleep. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep until he knew that she was, too. This hands travel along the column of her spine as he feels her shiver beside him. He wants so badly to climb inside her body and fix whatever is tarnished. Too many horrible things have happened to the girl in his arms and the revelation makes him want to scream at the world, why her? Why must the girl with an abundance of love and life to give be the one who wears brokenness on her sleeve? Why do the loveliest, fiercest souls find the littlest happiness?

Her quiet snores fill the room and he feels her reach out and grab his hand underneath the sheets.

"Good night." He leans down and kisses her forehead, laying down on his side with her hand in his grasp before the temptation of sleep pulls him under.

Waking to the sound of his phone going off, Scott rubs the sleep out of her eyes and rolls over to the night stand. He reaches for his phone but it pulled back by the firm grip Malia has on his hand. Her eyes are still closed but a small smile plays on her lips, making him wonder what she could be thinking about.

He can't help staring at her. In his house. In his room. In his bed. Who would of ever known that this is where they would end up?

He checks his phone with his free hand, surprised at the name that flits across the screen.

Derek Hale

"I'm in town. You and the pack meet me at my old apartment in 30 mins. I have a few surprise guests along with me." -D

The cryptic message leaves Scott reeling. Derek's back in town, that's awesome. But who are the people he brought along? He sends out a few texts, one to Lydia, another to Liam and Mason, and lastly one to Parrish and Argent. He's sure they can take Liam and Mason can handle spreading the word to Hayden and Corey.

The pack assembles in front of Derek's place. Malia had left his house that morning to change and take a shower. She left in one of his button up shirts that it two sizes too big for her and a pair of his jogging pants. Once again, she looked so cute in his clothes.

They barge right into the abandoned building figuring that Derek had left the place to Scott anyways in case of emergencies.

Derek appears around the corner, dark and broody as ever, but a ghost of a smile passing his face. He had really missed everyone. Braedan stands by his side, the hunter decked out in all black and an assortment of guns at her disposal. They stand hand in hand, softly leaning into each other. Everyone in the room smiles, glad that Derek had finally found someone who makes him happy. He always did have tragic luck with women. The two are a great pair, Scott finding himself missing the dark-skinned woman more than he realized.

Malia rushes in late, bounding through in her combat boots and shorts, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. She stands breathless, her hair whipping around her head in slow motion like in those cheesy action movies. Her brown eyes assess the room, scanning every nook and cranny for a sign of danger. Her eyes find Braedan and Derek standing near the couch and she runs over to pull them into her arms, Braedan first and then moving over to Derek. Scott knows how close her and the other woman had gotten. He's pretty sure they'd kept in contact through letters and sparse phone calls throughout Braedan's travels.

"Easy there coyote, I'm still breakable." Braedan grins, squeezing the werecoyote into a hug.

Malia turns to Derek and she grins sheepishly. Derek's eyebrows raise and his small smile stretches out wider. He may not have gotten to spend much time getting to know her, but he really did miss her. "Geez, I'd thought you'd forgotten about me all wrapped up in Braedan. You'd think she was your girlfriend instead of mine." He whines, pulling Malia into a deep hug and ruffling her affectionately much to her chagrin. Regardless, she was happy to see them.

He looks her up in down, pride swelling in his chest. "You've really grown into a woman, Malia. I'm sorry I missed it." He says earnestly, hoping that she forgave him. He had brought a surprise for her.

Malia looks at Derek through her lashes. "It was never you're job to take care of me, but you looked out for me anyways... In you're own way. I'm just happy you're here now." She says honestly, no resentment or malice in her tone.

Derek stops. "Well I'm glad you feel that way because I brought a couple people home with me for you to meet."

The pack turns to face the sound of footsteps rounding the corner. In the shadows cast upon the room, none other than Cora Hale and Jackson Whittemore show themselves.

Lydia gasps when her old flame appears in front of her for the first time in years. She hates how after all this time he still manages to have an effect on her. Her heart stumbles from her chest cavity and gets stuck in her throat, remembering a time when all she saw was him.

She steadies her voice. "Jackson, what are you doing here? I thought you were in London?"

An awkward yet nostalgic smile lights up Jackson's face. "Hello Lydia, it's been a long time. You all may be wondering why I'm here and some probably wondering who I am. I guess I'll just let Derek explain."

Derek steps forward, commanding everyone's attention. "As most of you know, Cora is my little sister." He looks towards Malia. "She's your cousin, Malia." He acknowledges, giving each of them a look.

Malia takes in the woman before her. They shared some striking similarities: Dark features, bronzed skin, thick messy eyebrows, and full pink lips. Her eyes resemble the same chocolate brown as her own and a quiet presence circles around her. Malia can tell that she's not a girl of many words, but when she does speak, you better listen.

The Hale girl takes a tentative move to come closer, asking permission with her eyes.

Malia nods, stepping closer as well.

"So you're my family, huh? And here I thought I was stuck with just Derek." She laughs, trying to initiate conversation.

The dark beauty smirks, "I couldn't just leave you alone with him." Derek balks at her response. "I've heard a lot about you. I look forward to getting to know more. I can smell the Hale on you, cousin. And I hear that you're the stubborn type." She smiles, not one who is usually up for pleasantries. She leans into Malia's ear, "I can already tell that we'll get along fine."

Scott joins in on the good nature of the room. "How have you been, Jackson?" He questions amiably. They may have started off on the wrong foot, but everyone deserves a second chance. It seems like the reformed bad guy has turned over a new leaf. And if Malia wants him in her life, he's happy that he's here.

Jackson starts. "Hey McCall, long time no see. Does your mom still do all the grocery shopping?"

Scott chuckles at the inside joke from sophomore year. Jackson had confronted him and asked him "where he gets his juice" if he recalls correctly. Seeing the other boy was nostalgic and reminds him of simpler times when all of his friends were still alive.

"Am I sensing a past bromance?" Malia suggests, looking between the two of them casually.

They both chuckle at her question. "Not exactly." Jackson replies.

Derek intercepts the conversation and steers it back on topic. "Jackson was in London, he didn't lie about that. During that time he decided to take an offer from his school to do a study abroad program in South America. That's where he met Cora." He pauses, making sure everyone is following along, he hates repeating himself. "They met in one of the surrounding villages. Cora had made a home there once she left Beacon Hills and they came across each other in an old shop known for housing some ancient relics. Cora had been tipped off by an anonymous letter that there was a last lone Hale alive somewhere in the world. I sent her Talia's claws when I left town as a memento of our mother. She told me about the letter and I figured that they could help her locate our last family member the same way we found Malia. The owner of the shop was a Banshee... Like Lydia." He says, casting his eyes in strawberry blonde's direction. The old woman was able to uncover the missing pieces of information about our family tree that died with my mother. The Banshee was skilled in the art of drawing. She was able to sketch a life-like picture of what the last Hale looked like." He gestures to Jackson. "And that's when she found Jackson listening in around the corner. It was like fate."

Lydia can't wrap her head around the information that she's hearing. Before she can ask the question that everyone in the room is wondering, Scott beats her to it. "You're saying that Jackson is a Hale?"

Derek clears his throat. "That's exactly what I'm saying. But there's more to the story."

"What else could there be?" Liam steps in, eyeing the stranger with peeked interest.

Derek faces Malia. "He's also your brother, Malia... Your twin." He reveals, watching as her stoic expression crumbles and a thousand of emotions bleed into her eyes.

"-what?" She gasps. She's never felt more vulnerable. "So I not only have a cousin... But I have a brother?" She covers her mouth in shock. Happiness and curiosity heighten in her face, but surprise resonates above the rest. "How is that possible?"

Her stance is so fragile. She looks like she could cave in on herself at any moment, but she fights back to urge to crack under the pressure. Scott wants to pull the panic out of her. He can see how unnerved she is, not used to being left out of the loop. With eyes full of fear, she looks between Derek, Jackson, and Cora, waiting for someone to explain. She's afraid to feel anything for this group of people who are the only family she has left. Her dad is still around, but he doesn't know her. Not the real her, at least. God knows what he thinks she's always up to, most likely getting into trouble which actually isn't too far off. Just not the same trouble he's probably thinking. Or he may not care at all seeing as he's never home. She looks at all their faces, especially Jackson, and she can see the uncanny resemblance.

She finds herself slowly starting to love people the more and more she lets others in and the thought of losing them is too much for her to bear. Malia always thought of herself as a catalyst for death, her loved ones dropping like flies around her. Her very existence exudes death and pain and she doesn't want to drag anyone else down with her.

Cora puts her hand on her shoulder. "The older Banshee was able to see the strings that tie all of us together. Lydia was able to discover you when her voice thrusts my mother's claws into that very spot." She says, pointing to the deep indention that mars the stone pillar across the room. "But Talia covered her tracks... Sort of. She made sure that if one twin was ever found, the other one would be hidden. She befriended a few herbalists and witches in her time. She wanted to make sure that at least one of you survived, it was her dying wish to Derek."

"So you knew about me having a twin?" Malia growls, invading his personal space. "Why! Why would you keep that from me?" Her snarls echo through the room and Scott moves to calm her. His hand around her shoulders lessens her hostility, but she can still feel it snapping against her spine. She gives him an appreciative look.

Derek understands her anger and raises to defend himself. "I didn't know about there being two of you at first. Talia loved to speak in riddles and I finally figured out what she had meant not too long ago. She spoke of two, but Lydia was only able to uncover you. I thought it must have been a misunderstanding." He explains. "Besides, who would of thought it was Jackson Whittemore of all people? He was under my nose all this time and I finally realized why he didn't turn into a werecoyote such as yourself when I initially bite him. Talia had to decide. She was dying and only had time to save one of you, so she picked a baby at birth, putting a repressive curse on one child so that the werecoyote gene wouldn't be activated until the time was right. That's why Jackson became a Kanima first. It was a transitioning or "holding" period until it was time for him to embrace who he is. There was no way of me knowing that he was a Hale from the start. But in a way I feel like I should have known, he holds a lot of the same mannerisms as Peter." He cringes, looking back at an insulted Jackson. "No offense, buddy." He snarks, gracing the other boy with a shit-eating grin.

"Why would she want to hide one of our powers?" Malia questions.

"So the Desert Wolf couldn't get her hands on both of you."

Malia's breathing evens out, realizing how dumb she was. Of course Derek wouldn't do keep anything from her. She just had so many trust and anger issues that she didn't know what to do with.

Suddenly the thought hits her. "The Desert Wolf? So we have the same mom, but that doesn't explain the dad part that makes us both Hales. What am I missing here? And who's Peter?"

Derek stills, confusion masking the worry in his facial features. He lets out a dimmed chuckle, "I mean I know Peter isn't exactly anyone's favorite person, but he's still your father, Malia."

Malia's eyes grow wider. "Excuse me, what?" She spews out, dubiety coloring her tone.

Cora, Jackson, and Derek look at her strangely. She doesn't like it one bit. "Peter Hale: murderer, the original Alpha... V-neck extraordinaire? Cora checks off sarcastically, failing to hide her disgust at the v-neck part. She always hated those shirts.

And she never could get over how he killed Laura in cold blood, accident or not.

"Scott, help me out here." Cora grips, gesturing at him to say something.

"I don't know what you guys want me to say... I don't know this Peter guy either."

The three Hales look lost for words.

Braedan speaks up. "Peter Hale turned you Scott, he's your sire... How could you forget?"

With those words, something inside of Scott snaps, a set of distilled images whipping past his eyes like a movie.

He was bitten. He made first line on the lacrosse team. Allison. Pack. Becoming an Alpha...Stiles?

"It's the ghost riders... they didn't just take one person. Who knows how many people we've forgotten?" Lydia supplies, a foreboding eeriness taking over her tone. Her eyes are hollow and empty, looking in on a moment that the rest of them can't see. Parrish cups her cheek. "Are you okay, Lydia?"

Jackson's eyes narrow at the exchange. "So why can we remember Peter and the rest of you guys can't? It can't be because of a familial connection, I mean we all hate the guy just as much as the rest of you and Malia doesn't remember him either."

Braedan butts in. "Maybe the memory loss just hasn't taken affect yet. We've been on the other side of the world, the memory loss might not have spread that far yet."

Derek takes hold of Malia's arm. "Peter Hale is your father and Cora and I's Uncle. When he and the Desert Wolf got together, they found out they were having twins. When she gave birth, her power passed down and was split in between you and Jackson. But since she only knows about you, she thinks that it was you who sucked out all of her power, when in reality you only inherited a small portion of it. That's why she's so angry and wants to kill you. My mother took her and Peter's memories and that's why they were never able to find you. Peter was none the wiser, but the Corrine was smarter than that. Her power was gone and she knew there was only one way that could be, by having children. She found an ally that helped her recover her memories, but not all of it. She has no idea Jackson even exists."

The news reaches Malia's ears but all she hears is the white noise. A ring beats against her eardrums and her heart matches it's rhythm. Her hard eyes turn to Jackson. "So you're the reason she only came after me and my family. Why did you get to have a good life and I had to fend for myself?" She fumes, hitting Jackson hard across the face. He flinches at the contact but doesn't make a move to stop her. "I lost my family because of you. At least if she was hunting both of us I could have had more time with them. You smell of Calvin Klein and fresh money, you've obviously been well taken care of. So tell me brother dearest, why is your life worth more than mine?" She seethes, her face two inches from his and her jaw clenched to stop the guttural scream from leaving her mouth. Angry tears drip down her face and Jackson is at a loss of what to say. He found out that he had a sister and then he learned that she had suffered because of him. And how did he spend that life blissful ignorance? Being mad at the world for reasons he doesn't even remember anymore and fucking up every good thing that ever came his way. His eyes spy Lydia over Malia's shoulder. She stares back and then break contact, leaning into Parrish. Malia makes a lung for him with the intent of hurting him. She felt it was only fair to avenge the life that she gave up for him.

Cora tries to pull her off but Malia snaps her canines in her direction, warning her to stand down. Her eyes bleed a chilled blue and Malia has never felt so much rage in her life. Jackson will always be the walking reminder that her family is dead and that it's his fault they died so soon. She gains a brother and loses him all at once.

Scott goes to comfort her. "Don't touch me, Scott!" She cries. Hurt flashes across his face but she's too busy drowning in her pain to care.

He tries again. "Malia, let me help you." He pleads, reaching out to her.

She stares at his hand with glossy tears welling in her eyes. "You can't help me, Scott. No one can."

"What if I said that I remembered something about Stiles." He suggests, hoping that her curiosity will outweigh her grief.

"Oh yeah, where is that spaze?" Derek speaks up, a seeping fondness evident in his voice. But if anyone so dared to call him out on it he'd kill them.

Malia pushes her anger to the backburner for the moment. "Wait, you know Stiles?"

"Who is Stiles?" Lydia, Liam, Hayden, Mason, and Corey shout simultaneously.

Malia groans. "I had a weird memory of him. He's the one we've been looking for, the one who walks Lydia to class, is my anchor, and Scott's best friend."

"How do you know he was my best friend?" Scott asks doubtfully.

"Because you said so, yourself. You were drawn to a locker... Maybe it belonged to him. You said you heard the words, 'Scott, you are my brother.', what else could that mean?"

Scott runs a hand over his tired eyes. "I suppose it's possible. Any of you guys want to fill in the gaps?" He encourages, gesturing to the three Hales and Braedan.

Derek rolls his eyes. "He was with you when you stumbled into the woods that night. You were looking for a body... Who happened to be my dead sister. He was with you when you were bitten. You've known each other since the 1st grade, I think he once said you guys met in the sandbox." He smiles, remembering how animated of a person Stiles was. His limbs always flying around chaotically, a sarcastic sentence on his lips and way too many flannels. "He was the closest thing you had to a brother."

The knot in Scott's stomach tightens at Derek's words, ringing true through his soul. He knows in his heart that his former mentor isn't lying.

The lights flicker on and off. A radio buzz electrifies the air, the crackling and sizzling causing everyone to quiet. The hum tingles throughout their bodies before lightening strikes outside the window. The sound of hoofs can be heard in the distance...

Low rumbled growls set off a cacophony of sounds from the werewolves in the room.

They're here.

Then men on horses appear out of thin air, lassos whipping at the air and letting out a hiss at the impact. "Everyone, get out of here!" Scott roars, face transforming into a creature of the night. His fur erupts from his flesh, veiny red eyes overshadowing the warm brown. Claws split from his fingers and his back arches in a howl. Derek, Cora, Jackson, Liam, Hayden, and Malia all have similar reactions. A plethora of multi-colored eyes scan the surroundings, deciding which ghost rider to go for first. Braedan has Argent at her flank, spitting bullets from their loaded guns. The heavy machinery lets out a harsh whistle, the tiny steel pieces having little to no effect on the men and horses.

Lydia's ear-splitting scream works to their advantage, knocking a few of them off balance.

One rider whips out his lasso and aims it into the group.

He hears her cry before he sees her fall.

Malia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: You guys still with me? Leave a comment in the review box and let me know what you thought about the reveals in this chapter. I hope it was exciting and fun to read. The scalia was so great to write again. Are y'all liking where the plot is going? Are y'all happy that Cora and Jackson are back? Reviews make me update faster! Love you guys! Xoxo, Etherealmindss.


	11. Are You Real?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Oblivion By Bastille and Soldier On By Temper Trap
> 
> "And I saw the peaks on my own that you probably meant for us. And I tore the fear from my bones that you probably never lost."- Novo Amor, "Alps"

Malia.

Scott runs through the masses dodging werewolves, a banshee, and chimeras alike, searching frantically for a messy shadow of brown hair.

Where is she?

She can't be gone.

Not her.

There's blood on the floor and a green, gooey liquid that seeps into the cracks in the mahogany wood.

He can taste the lingering scent of her vanilla lotion in the air.

He feels her so deeply that her scent alone almost seems tangible, a fading trail of sun-kissed skin that he loved to touch. Taking another whiff makes him pause. Another smell is mixed with hers, one all too familiar that makes his eyes burn an angry red so forthcoming in their fury that they could make imprints in the spot that he had seen her fall.

Theo.

How is that even possible? He's dead.

He doesn't know what he's done with Malia or how he is even alive but the psychopath was able to kidnap her quickly and quietly without any of them noticing. He was probably there the whole time. The thought causes a growl to rip through Scott's chest and his claws dig deep into his palms until he scraps bone.

He had to find her. The Ghost Riders whip had weakened her. She could be dying for all he knew. One way or the other, he would get her back. Even if he had to put Theo down to do it.

His canines peek out from the folds of his lips and a distorted growl releases from his throat. "Let's finish this."

Liam, Derek, and Jackson stand by his side, ready for a blood bath if it came to that. Scott hears her voice in his mind, the quiet confidence she always carried in the way she spoke, "You're the strongest person I've ever known, Scott."

He remembers the way she had looked at him. How even with the weight of the world on his shoulders and feeling like everything was going to collapse around him, she still believed in him. They had laid on his comforter, staring up at the ceiling with her head on his shoulder. She had talked for so long that he could barely gotten a word in at some points, but he didn't mind. He liked the sound of her voice.

"Scott" She breathes, "Why do you choose to stay here and continue to fight for this town... For people you don't even know? You do so much good for every one and no one even knows all that you've sacrificed."

He recalls the small grin he wore at her question. The look stayed permanently etched in his cheeks when she was around as he was always further amazed at her uncurbed curiosity and the bluntness that he had come to expect. It had been a long time since someone had just asked about him. It was always him making sure everyone else was okay, not that he minded that so much. It was just nice to have someone wanting to focus on him, even if it sometimes unnerved him. Scott was never one who wanted others to spend their time worrying over him, but Malia had this way of knowing when he needed to talk about something and she wasn't afraid to ask.

"These people... This town, they're my responsibility. When Allison and I brought power back to the Nemeton to save our parents, we also opened the floodgates for supernaturals to wander here. Allison is gone, so it's just me now."

She shifts on his bed until her head is angled to look at him. "But you have bigger dreams, Scott. You told me how you want to go off to school and become a veterinarian, open up your own clinic one day... The whole thing. This sense of responsibility that you feel you need to fulfill to Beacon Hills had an expiration date, and you've given your time. You deserve to live, too." She says, a soft smile playing on her features.

Her brown hair looked even darker in his dimly lit room, but her eyes still blazed with the intensity of a liquid sunset as the moonlight highlights different contours of her face. Seeing her like this was like seeing her naked again for the first time. She is so raw and unfiltered; a gorgeous combination. It's almost painful to look at her and his heart thuds in his chest when she watches him. He wonders if she's picked up on it.

Girls like her didn't deserve to be stuck here, either.

He sighs. "I just don't know what else I'm suppose to do. I can't leave all of this for Liam to handle on his own-" He's cut off by her hand on his bicep.

"You still have me. I can stay here- I didn't really have any college plans, anyways. I have no money and I'm not smart enough to get into some great school like you or Lydia." She confesses.

And the sad part is he can tell she means that. She really doesn't see herself clearly, not the way he sees her. She's smart in a practical kind of a way. The type of smart that survives and unravels when it's needed. She's helped save people countless times, including himself. But she's stubborn. Being set in her ways, it's almost impossible to change her mind.

He shushes her with a disapproving look. "Malia, you are smart. School isn't for everyone, but it can be if that's what you want. You're capable of whatever you put your mind to. I can help you fill out applications for schools and loans. We could even go on some college tours. Just because I've resigned to my decision to stay here doesn't mean you have to. I know this place isn't all that exciting." He chuckles nervously.

She has no idea how much the thought of her being there with him made him feel. They had become so close that he'd had come to rely on her, but he couldn't ask her to stop her life for him. She has a bright future ahead of her and he couldn't wait to see what life had in store for the brave werecoyote.

Malia kicks off her boots and yawns, her eyes crinkling in the corners and her little nose scrunches up. She looked so small and lightened, a stark difference from her usual fierce nature and readied alertness. Scott wishes he had a camera to capture the moment.

She growls playfully at the grin on his face and shoves him over to his side of the bed. "Stop looking at me like that, McCall."

He laughs, "And what look would that be, Lia?"

Her eyes soften. "You know what I mean." She says, moving her arms around for emphasis, not willing to speak her observations out loud.

"Nope, I don't think I know what you mean, Malia. Why don't you tell me." He chuckles, wanting to hear all her little thoughts. He loves the pout that plays on her lips when he continues to act coy.

She scoffs at his expression and grabs the pillow next to him and slams her head against it as she lays down underneath the covers.

She doesn't say anything for a long time and Scott doesn't think she's going to elaborate any further.

He hears her moving around by the squeak of the mattress and the constant tossing and turning of her body.

Finally she turns back to face him but he's already looking at her, his eyes burning holes into her back until she couldn't take it anymore.

"You looked at me like I was beautiful." She says honestly, her eyelashes fanning across her cheeks as she looks down at the bed, "I don't think anyone has ever looked at me like that before." She finishes, biting her lip and chancing a look in his direction.

He smooths the hair that's sticking out from the pillows and scoots closer to her whispering, "Beautiful is a pretty lousy way to describe you. There aren't enough words to get it just right." He muses anxiously, playing with a piece of her hair with shaking hands. His fingers tremble around the strands when he realizes that he's already said too much, but it's too late to back out now. He carries on, "You're hard to figure out. You're beautiful-But it's much more than that. And I've enjoyed finding out who you are." He explains with an awkward dip in his voice as he looks up at her fearfully, scared at how she would react to his honesty.

Malia snorts to fight off her growing shyness, eliciting that nervous Scott McCall smile that makes her toes curls beneath her and goosebumps to erupt across her skin. His crooked jaw made him even more handsome, just one more thing about him that she'd found herself thinking about lately.

"I can see why Allison and Kira loved you." She says quietly, almost as if she were saying it to herself. Her eyes smolder him into silence as any response he had intended to say got stuck in his throat. "Can I stay here, tonight?" She asks in a sleepy lull, her eyes already fluttering closed.

He tucks her in more, intentionally giving her more of the covers as he rolls the blankets and sheets over her shoulders. He knew they would end up there anyways, she always hogged the comforter and he let her. If this is the one place she could feel safe and warm, he'd give it all to her. "Of course, you always have a place here, Lia." He reminds her, kissing her forehead when she's sound asleep and drifting back over to his side of the bed.

He watches her sleep for a little while just to make sure she was really there. Her hair fans the pillows and she lightly snores as she rubs her nose further into his shoulder. Throughout the night she had moved closer to him, intertwining their legs with her arm thrown lazily over his abdomen and her head grazing his chest. Her hand laid over his heart and he was consciously aware of how fast it was beating. Being immersed in her was intoxicating, surrounded by her scent and feeling the heat of her body pressed against his through their clothes. Somehow being with her like this felt more surreal and intimate then anything he had ever experienced with a girl before. It wasn't about sex or lust, but just the simplicity of falling asleep in one another's arms. Needless to say, he barely got any sleep that night. Malia had him wrapped around her little finger and she didn't even know it.

His eyes squeeze shut, letting the memory wash over him.

Lydia moves over to him and grabs his arm, pulling him out of this thoughts.

He looks at Lydia searchingly whose staring at him with understanding. She knew that he wanted to go search for Malia, leaving them to fight off the Ghost Riders, but he'd never ask that of them. Seeing the indecision weighing heavy in his eyes, she leans in to squeeze his hand. "We're going to find her."

She's not sure if he hears her as his eyes seem lost in translation, shifting back and forth between the apartment anxiously as his hands tear at his hair. She's no werewolf but she could almost smell the desperation rolling off of him in waves.

Pain-stricken, he finally meets her gaze and slowly starts to lose the panic. "I have to go get her. We have no idea where she's been taken but I can smell Theo all over this place." He starts, looking like the next words to come out of his mouth could quite literally choke him "-But first, we have to take care of the Ghost Riders."

"Theo? How is he alive?" She asks, her utter dislike for the guy coloring her tone. He's the reason she had a hole drilled into her head. The reason she was put into Eichen House against her will. The reason she killed someone.

Fears creeps into his voice, "I don't know, but I'm not sure what scares me most: the not knowing, or the whole new set of problems that will arise when we find out."

They turn to face the Ghost Riders on the opposite side of the room. All their attention is focused on Lydia.

The banshee stands tall and luminous with her red hair whipping around her like a woman unbroken by the turmoil around her.

"Every one get behind me, they won't go near a banshee." She commands, beckoning the crowd near her to move around her shoulder.

"How do you know that?" Liam chimes in, his lack of faith in her knowledge eliciting a light scoff and an eye roll.

Her brow arches. "While you and Hayden were off making out in the back corner of the library, I was actually doing some research of my own." She smirks at the sheepish grin on his face. "The mythology mentioned that the Ghost Riders have an aversion to banshees. We're the only ones they leave behind when they ride the lightening and move onto a new town. Now if you're done asking questions, do as I say and get behind me." She snaps, an irritated grimace causing her forehead to wrinkle.

The Ghost Riders look on curiously, cocking their head to the side before their horses back up a few paces.

Liam whispers, "They're... Afraid of you."

Lydia hushes him, shifting her eyes cautiously to meet the young beta before coming back to the Ghost Riders. "No, it's not that. It's more like... Reverence."

She takes a small step forward and Parrish brushes her side, hand coming to lay gently against her wrist.

She looks him over, a tight-lipped smile curving against her full, red pout.

"Jordan, it's okay." She says, shaking herself loose from his grip.

Her voice thickens with emotion, a special kind of ferocity living inside the small red head for so long and just waiting for the day to be set free.

She breathes in and then lets it all out, "Saoire agus nach teacht ar aid. Is ad na daoine daoi chosaint an bhean wailing. Fan amach n'o b'fheidir beidh se do bas thuar me chugainn!" She screams in a foreign tongue, her voice shattering the windows until the room gets caught in a tornado of a glass and debris. Her voices echos off the concrete walls, resonating deep within her soul. The Irish language drips off her lips with a confidence and fluency of a native speaker. She has no idea how she knew the words to say, but she doesn't have time to process it before she feels faint. A sense of vertigo causes her to sway back and forth with stars dancing in her vision right as she falls. Parrish catches her before she hits the ground, seeing as he's the only one that can take her scream without collapsing. Everyone is flat on the ground clutching at their bloody ears and moaning in pain.

The Ghost Riders are thrown back into the air where they disappear in a cloud of foggy, green smoke.

Lydia gasps when she opens her eyes slightly. Her throat is hoarse and burning, the remnants of the powerful scream that flowed out of her. Scott bends down and takes her hand and begins taking away some of her pain. He's worried about her, but she can see that his mind is somewhere else, or should she say, with someone else. She encloses her other hand around his fidgeting arm.

She gives him a reassuring smile. "We've got this, go find my best friend."

He shakes his head, but worry laces the brown of his eyes. "I can't leave you." He says, frowning at the beads of sweat that roll down her forehead.

A tight-lipped smile breaks through the grimace on her face. "I'm not asking, Scott. I can't lose another friend. If not for her or yourself, do it for me. First Allison, then Stiles, now Malia... I don't think I can survive another heart break." She explains through her tears, begging for him to listen.

He nods his head, pulling her into a hug. "You're not losing anyone tonight, Lydia." He moves over to Liam and tells him in a stern voice, "You watch over her, you hear me? You're going to be a great Alpha someday, and this is going to be one of your responsibilities.

Liam nods solemnly, looking up at Scott with puppy eyes. He's still so young, but he didn't want to disappoint Scott. There isn't a worse feeling in the world. He goes to stand by Parrish and helps Lydia to her feet, supporting her weight on his shoulders as the two carry her out of the apartment.

Scott gets up and moves over to the door. He tugs on Argent's arm, wanting the older man to accompany him. You never know when you'll need a good shot, and Argent was by far the best he had encountered besides maybe Braedan.

"I'm coming, too." Braedan states, shutting down any backlash with the determination that pierces through her dark eyes.

"Don't think you're leaving me out, she's my cousin after all." Derek chimes in, furrowing his brows.

"Mine too." Cora joins in, eyes flashing blue.

"And my sister." Jackson finishes, stepping up to add to the group. "What do you say, McCall? Ready to team up for old time sake?" He grins, flashing his pearly white teeth at Scott.

Scott grins at their exuberance. "Okay, lets go get our girl back."

The six run out of the apartment looking back at the rest of the group, hoping that splitting up would prove to work in their advantage for once.

Malia POV:

The last thing I remember is the scent of leather and hair gel when I looked up into the eyes of the devil himself, Theo Raeken. The bastard put a cloth soaked in wolfs-bane over my mouth. My vision swam before me, the smug smile on his face overshadowing the hints of regret in his eyes.

"I'm really sorry I had to do this." He had whispered before darkness flooded my senses.

No No No No NO.

Not again.

Not the dark. I can't fight my demons alone. Not without him.

Scott, where are you?

I wake up in a cold sweat with my hands chained to a dirty wall. The place smells like mildew and fecal matter, making my nose twitch in disgust. Theo looks up when he hears me stir and a low warning growl signals him to stay away.

I meet his eyes head on, "How are you here right now? You should be burning in hell like my bitch of a mother." I grit out. The growl in the back of my throat never dies down, it's a constant presence, reminding me never to let my guard down. Theo has the art of manipulation down to a tee. The psychopathic tendencies inside of him coexists annoyingly with his inner perfectionist that put together was able to tear my pack apart. He forced Lydia into a catatonic state and turned Liam against the pack. He pretended to be an ally when the whole time he was working with the Dread Doctors behind our backs.

He killed Scott... My Scott. And I'll never forget that.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And man, he really had me fooled. The real punchline of the joke is that I actually thought that I had finally met someone else like me.

Theo presented this beautiful temptation that involved embracing darkness. He made killing seem like a necessity and made me desire that thrill again. No matter how much I hate what I did to my family, the animal inside me reveled in the blood and gore. The feeling had appealed to me in every deep, decaying part of my soul that yearned to not be afraid of the dark anymore. He told me he could teach me to turn back to my wild state, werecoyote to werecoyote. He was an expert liar. So good in fact that he may have started to believe his own lies that he'd spun.

He walks closer with a cocky twist of his lips. He was brave, I'll give him that. Stupid, though? I'll give him that, too. However, he bends down to my height and does something that shocks me.

He removes my chains.

Yep, stupid was right.

I lung at him and dig my claw deep into the side of his face leaving bloody trails down his cheek where missing pieces of flesh fall to the ground and cake underneath my finger nails. While that would usually disturb me, I couldn't care less right now. I am on a war path. I look at my handy work and a satisfied grin crosses my face.

Not so pretty anymore. Man, I hope this one leaves a scar.

With him caught off guard, I go at him again. I kick him in the stomach, sending him flying against the back wall. I straddle his waist and let out a string of punches to his face, feeling the skin tear and the bones give away underneath my hands.

It felt so good to hurt him. The strength of my anger even surprises me as I continue to kick, punch, and bite at any piece of him I can get my hands on.

"This is for betraying me, for shooting me, for hurting my friends, for killing Scott, for Stiles!" I yell before I stop, realizing what I just said. I back away from him, the blood painting my face and staining my hands as it drips to the ground.

"I didn't matter to me."

"Yeah well... It matters to me."

Images flash across my eyes. I'm in a car with Stiles, but somehow it seems like were on opposite sides of the world. His eyes bleed with remorse, pain, and self-loathing all hitting me at once. I remember now, seeing him look like there wasn't a single person in the world who could understand him. But I did, at least I thought so. My memories warp and now I'm in the Eichen House basement.

"You may not like me very much if I tell you."

"Try to remember that I'm a werecoyote that killed her own family. I won't judge, promise."

The memories move again like the flip of a camera, sifting back in forth so fast it makes my head spin. A years worth of memories dance across my eyes. Finally I'm back in the Hale Vault, a scruffy haired Stiles leans over me with a look of adoration shining in his eyes. He fingers my hair with the softest of touches, moving it out of my face where he caresses me and rubs his thumb over my tears.

"You're coming back, right?"

"Yeah... I'd never leave you behind."

My eyes go wide and I hear the gasp leave my mouth as my eyes well up with tears. One trails down my cheek, the stinging in my eyes blurring my vision. The memory hits me like a punch to the gut, all those old feelings winding up like a coil in my stomach and releasing without my permission.

I see him walking away and the image is starting to dissipate. He turns back to look at me one more time before he disappears behind the door.

Stiles, where are you going?

I fall to my knees, all the emotions and feelings and memories coming back like crashes of a tidal wave. They weren't all sad. Some of them we're really good. Quite a few involved the pack. Others even involved Scott. Him and Stiles had been best friends. And how ironic that all my memories fully recover the moment I was about to tempt fate, possibly killing Theo and breaking Scott's number one rule. Another tear slips down my face. And then two. And then three. There Stiles goes again, always saving me. When I felt myself teetering over the edge, he had always been there to pick me up again and tell me to try again. He really had been the link to my humanity. Maybe it's not the same as it was before, but he's still with me.

But even with this new knowledge to think over, it doesn't change anything.

When we get Stiles back, I'll still choose Scott. I feel it with every fiber of my being. That crooked jaw, toothy grin, and warm brown eyes couldn't be replaced in my heart. Stiles and I had our moments and I'll always cherish him. But Scott is my person. He makes me feel like I'm walking on sunshine every day. Looking at him, I know that I am loved and wanted. When he holds my hand, I can feel his emotions pouring into me. A connection like that comes around once in a lifetime. I would be an idiot to toss that aside.

Theo lays a pummeled, red mess in the corner of the dinky little room. I grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him hard to meet me. He groans in response which only makes my smile widen, "Sorry, I'm not known for being delicate."

He smirks, or at least what little he can with a chipped tooth and a split lip. "It's alright cupcake, I like it rough anyways."

I smack his head hard against the wall, causing him to grow delirious and throw up on the spot next to him. Some leaks onto his shirt and saliva cakes at the corner of his mouth. "You were saying, cupcake?" I sneer, watching the persona fall apart beneath his tired eyes.

"You should be thanking me, you know." He states, out of breathe.

I bark a laugh. "What in the world would I have to thank you for?"

He makes a move to touch the skin of my back but I hiss at him and he quickly removes his hand, knowing that if he wants to keep it, he better explain what's going on.

He coughs up black blood, spitting it out in the pile of throw up. "That scar on your back is infected." He says, pointing and motioning for me to turn around.

My stomach instantly drops. "How do you know about my scar, you perv. Did you undress me while I was unconscious?" I balk, feeling the need to hurl in disgust and anger. I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't wearing the same shirt as before. "What did you do me, Theo?" I scream, furious tears making paths down my face and staining my cheeks. The thought of what could have happened while I was out frankly scares the hell out of me. My body is the one thing that I have control over and the thought of it being defiled leaves my heart bounding and I can feel my skin starting to thicken into a hardening scar tissue. I'm slowly losing anything soft about me.

I look at Theo with wide eyes, praying that my suspicions aren't true. I don't feel any different, but that doesn't mean that it couldn't have happened.

Scott, please find me. I need you now more than ever.

Theo instantly realizes what I'm implying and is quick to reassure me. "Malia, oh my god, no. I would- I couldn't. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a rapist. I would never hurt you like that." He promises, eyes begging me to believe him. For the most part he seems sincere, no upticks of his heart beat or faltering of speech. Scott had taught me to look for all those things to know if someone was lying. That's why I'd gotten so good at reading him over the years.

When I find the confirmation I'm looking for, I turn away with heavy eyes as I wipe the pesky tears from my eyes. I attempt to lighten the mood with a lackluster joke to draw attention away from myself. "You know, you really shouldn't say God's name in vain." I mumble, remembering one of the few things my dad used to tell me when I was little. I used to think it was silly, not sure if there really even was a God. I'm still not sure, but I guess it's better to be safe then sorry.

He chuckles a low, deep laugh. "Actually, I'm an atheist."

I have to laugh at that. "Of course you are, that explains a lot. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not a satanist." I admit, only half joking.

He looks at me all serious. "I just said that I don't believe in God, not that I don't believe in the Devil. Hell is real and it's not a fun place to be. Hence, I'm making my walk of atonement and seeking any redemption I can find. If there is any to find." He notes, rubbing the stubble of his jaw.

"How did you know about my scar, Theo?" I ask hesitantly, waiting expectantly for him to fess up. I could handle whatever he told me, the alternative had shaken me to the core. There was nothing I feared more.

He clears his throat. "When you were struck with the Ghost Rider's whip, you were dying from an infection to the skin. The whip hit your scar and it ripped it open. You would have died if I hadn't done something. I had been hiding out in Derek's apartment for a while. He'd left it empty and no one had ever stopped by, it was easy to break into and the perfect hideout. Then I heard you guys enter and I fled to the shadows. I saw the whole fight go down."

I cut him off. "And you did nothing to help." I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "Typical, Theo. Always looking out for himself." I reminisce, all the different betrayals flashing through my brain. Luckily, the bullet wound hadn't scarred, too.

He dismisses my response, continuing on as if I'd never said anything. "Oh please, if I'd stuck my neck out for you guys, you all would still not trust me. With good reason, I'll admit. But I've changed. Burning in Hell changes a guy, and I mean that in the literal sense." He says.

My brow arches. "Yeah right, Theo Raeken capable of change? I trust you just about as far as I can throw you. I'm more than happy to test out that theory if you don't get to the point, by the way."

He smirks at my snarky attitude. "Man I've missed your fire, Malia. You were easily my favorite. I actually felt bad about hurting you. That's why I saved you. The green goo that got into your scar caused an infection from the poison within it. I cleaned it out the best that I could and patched you up with some gauze and herbs I acquired throughout my isolation since returning." He explains, gesturing to the bandage on my back. "It's only a temporary fix. The poison is still in your body, but I got most of it out. But over time it will come back. We need to get you to a hospital or Deaton's clinic so someone can look at you. If you don't get all of it out you will die Malia." He deadpans, having the audacity to look like he actually cares whether I live or die.

"Then why didn't you just alert the others. What's with the whole kidnapping fiasco?" I question.

His face turns somber and he looks more vulnerable then I ever thought he was capable of. "Maybe for once, I wanted to show you that I'm not all that bad. I have changed, Malia, and I'm going to prove it to you. Besides, I owed you one for the shooting incident." He says sheepishly, a small grin playing on his lips which causes him to wince at the split lip.

"What was it like... Hell, I mean?" I ask, honestly kind of fascinated to know what alternate dimension could evoke any kind of humanity in Theo.

"You don't want to know." He remarks, cutting off the conversation.

"You don't know what I want." I say bitterly.

He smirks. "Oh really, and why do you care?"

"Asking for a friend?" I supply, not putting in the effort to even sound remotely sincere.

"Is that what they call it these days?" He mocks, knowing the real reason I was asking. He's waiting for me to say something but I don't. He looks at me strangely. "Afraid you might wind up there someday?"

My neck snaps in his direction, hearing the words leave his mouth making my fears seem a little more real than before. My thoughts immediately go to my mom and Kylie. I didn't know if they had found peace or if there was even any peace to find. But I had this overwhelming fear that I would never see them again. That I would never get to tell them I'm sorry.

"It's okay, you know... To feel that way. But I think you're in the clear. Satan feeds on the bottom dwellers, I wouldn't worry too much." He says with subtle reassurance lacing his tone. He knows I don't trust him, but it seems like he's trying to comfort me. If making me sleep a little easier at night was his goal, it was a valiant effort but in the end it was futile. No one could save me from my sins.

What makes me any different from Theo?

Scott POV:

My hands lay flat against my sides, willing myself to keep them there and not punch the nearest tree. We've been out here for hours and there's no sign of Malia or Theo. Both of their scents faded out after a while ago, the wind carrying any trace away. My lips are chapped from wetting them so much. It's a habit I'd picked up from being around Malia so often.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the cigarette box I always keep with me just in case Malia is ever feeling a little antsy. I've never smoked one, but the numbing feeling in my bones is just itching for some kind of release. Hesitantly, I pull a white stick from the container and the spare lighter from my other pocket. And with just my luck, it's out of fluid. Deciding that I really needed the reprieve, I run the edges of the cigarette against the tree bark, making an instantaneous flame. It licks at the tip, the black circle of ash burning hot and red.

I bring it to my lips, inhaling the nicotine and pretending that it's her lips. When it gets to my lungs, I let out a series of coughs as I begin choking on the smoke that I'm not used to being in my body. After a minute I try again, this time trying to mimic the way Malia does it. Within a couple tries, I finally get it right. I take a pull from the cigarette and I feel a little closer to Malia. I'm still not a fan of it, but it does it's job to calm me.

"There has to be something we're missing." Derek notes, looking around the spacious woods as if Malia will just appear out of thin air like she's playing hide and seek.

I put the cigarette out with my boot and survey the area. Jackson was off looking with Cora while Argent and Braeden went in the opposite direction.

We checked her coyote den, her house, the Hale Vault, the high school, and any abandoned house in a 10 mile radius of Beacon Hills. It's like she's vanished into thin air.

"Are you sure you smelled Theo, Scott? We've looked everywhere and nothing has come up. I didn't recognize his scent because I've never met the guy and neither has anyone else besides Braedan, but she's not a werewolf. What if the Ghost Riders really did make her disappear? Derek suggests but treads lightly.

He knows that Malia and I have gotten close. And I'm sure by now he can tell that we are more than just friends. It didn't take a genius to figure out that I'm crazy about her. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone knew.

Cora and Jackson meet back here around the same time Braedan and Argent arrive.

"We've got nothing." Cora declares, frustration evident in her furrowed brows.

Jackson wore a similar expression, as well as Derek. Malia did that a lot, too. Maybe it was a Hale thing.

"Argh!" I yell at no one in particular, "It was Theo, I know it. It's been too quiet around here lately. It started with the Ghost Riders showing up but I had a feeling like something else was coming for us. Something always does. We have to keep looking, Malia wouldn't give up on us so I'm not giving up on her." I huff at their crestfallen expressions, stalking off on my own to search.

"Scott, you can't do this alone!" Braedan yells after me. "Maybe we should regroup in the morning and try again when we're at peak performance. It won't do us any good to walk blindly into a possible threat."

"This is Malia we're talking about! Don't you guys get it?" I roar, my fangs elongating and curling over my bottom lips. I can feel the redness of my eyes filling the irises, making me feel infinitely stronger. "If you guys want to go home and sleep it off, fine by me. But I'm not leaving until I get Malia back." I growl, turning on my heel and leaving them all behind.

"Don't let your feelings for her cloud your judgment, Scott. You're still the True Alpha and you have a responsibility to your pack to take care of yourself, too. I promise first thing in the morning we can come looking again. Just please come with us." Argent tries to reason, and for a moment I consider it.

My voice lowers to a quiet whisper. "I promised her she'd never be alone again. I'm breaking that promise if I stop looking." I deadpan, hating the treacherous tears that form in my eyes.

"You're only hurting her more by setting yourself up to fall into trouble. Do you really want us to have to tell Malia that you were too stubborn to listen to us that you wound up dead? That would kill her. I think that's a little worse than breaking a promise if she never gets to see you again." Argent states.

He has a point, I know this. But I'm so worried about her. She's probably scared and alone. And what if it's dark wherever she is? She hates the dark. But I have to remember that she's not helpless. She can take care of herself even better than I can.

With a heavy sigh, I turn back around and pace back and forth in indecision before going back over to the group.

"As soon as the sun is up I'll be back out here, with or without you guys. I hope you'll join me." I dismiss before I trek off and out of the woods all the way back home.

Third Person POV:

Malia and Theo talk for a little while longer until the smallness of the room makes her begin to feel claustrophobic. She's tired and weak. The infection in her scar had started to get worse, spreading throughout her system. Her body is a paradox, feeling hot and cold at the same time and she wonders how that can be.

Theo is still too weak to move. She had taken a lot out of him in order to lessen his chances of killing her. But it looks like the infection is going to kill her anyways.

She thinks of Scott. She thinks of all the plans they made that will probably never happen now. She likes to think that he'll miss her, but she's sure he'll get over her eventually. It's not like he loves her or anything. They haven't gotten there yet, would never get there. In a way, she muses over the idea that the love was already there, festering beneath her skin. Geez, a cigarette would make dying ten times more bearable.

She rolls her eyes at her inner monologue.

"I can't believe I'm really dying in a musty, old room and the last thing I'm ever going to see is your fucked up face, Raeken." She moans out through the pain, using what little energy she had to chuckle.

"Ouch Tate, this is your handy work in case you forgot. But quit your flirting and save your strength, you're going to need it. You're not dying in here, especially after I did all that work to fix you up. I still have a redemption to achieve, you know. It's not all about you." He jokes, trying to find the silver lining in the terrible situation they are stuck in.

She would rip his tongue out for the flirting comment, but she'd already roughened him up enough. Besides, the pain in her chest just from laughing made her feel like her insides were being sliced apart by razor blades.

Her mumbles come out in garbled sounds, "Theo... Scott- tell Scott. Tell him that I'm sorry. Tell him- tell him that I tried to be strong for him. Maybe I'm not as tough as he thought I was." She says, the words trail together and she cuts herself off when sharp pain claws at her back.

Malia can feel her scar stretching apart, literally being ripped from the inside out by the poison that is threatening to burn her alive. Her breathes are labored, becoming shallower by the second. "Theo... I can't- I can't hold on much longer. Promise me you'll tell him." She demands with lots of effort, sienna eyes fixing him with a look of pure trust.

What other choice did she have? She'll never see Scott again and Theo is her only hope at getting one last message to her almost-boyfriend before she withers away.

"You're not dying on me, Tate." He vows with conviction, finding the strength to push himself up off the floor. He stumbles over, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her into his arms bridal style. He loses his footing for a moment but regains it quickly, determined steps moving out the door. Her arms hang around his neck, clinging to him to the best of her ability.

He runs as fast as he can towards town. He had taken her to one of his old hideouts in the town over. He's started to heal a lot faster, the adrenaline and the sound of her fainting heartbeat propelling him forward. Even though he's out of breath, he talks to her to keep her awake.

"You know, I always wanted to be like Batman growing up. He was my favorite superhero as a boy. I liked that he didn't have superpowers and that he created his own power through science and engineering. I think I got the dark and brooding part right, but I think I fell a little short of the hero part." He admits, watching as a thin smile stretches across her dry lips.

"A boy with a dream. That would make for an interesting new superhero movie. I can see the headlines now." She jokes and hacks up a long, wet cough.

Theo runs faster.

"You think I'd make a good hero, Malia?" He asks playfully, but in reality he really wanted to know. Could he keep up this whole good guy thing or would he soon discover that the Dread Doctors had taken anything and everything good about him?

"I think it would be hard. You don't exactly have the best track record. I'd say you favor the Joker a bit more." She teases.

He chuckles at her response, knowing it's probably the closest to the truth. He also realizes that this is the most honest conversation they have ever had with each other.

He finally reaches the city limits of Beacon Hills, crossing the border and sprinting to Deaton's clinic with the dying girl in his arms. The Doc was just about to close up when Theo knocks furiously against the door, alerting Deaton of his presence. The doctor catches a glimpse of Malia getting paler by the second and rushes her into the back.

"What happened?" He asks frantically, rolling Malia over to her side and seeing the grotesque, greenish black slab of flesh that lines the expanse of her back.

He shuffles around the room, grabbing many different herbs and remedies off the shelves before thrusting them into Theo's arms. He points to the first cream, "Apply this all over the infected area, this should stop the swelling and contain the infection so it doesn't spread anywhere else. Then put a layer of this on top of it." He says, gesturing to a container of thick, salmon-colored cream. "This should slow down the poison. Do this and I'm going to go call Scott."

Theo visibly pales at the mention of the True Alpha that he had murdered in cold blood. He hadn't seen him since he fell away into the hole in the ground leading to Hell. Scott had witnessed his damnation and didn't bat an eyelash. It took a lot to make Scott lose all hope in somebody and Theo fell short of all expectations. He had an inkling that Scott would be all too eager to send him straight back.

Theo washes his hands and begins applying the salve to her skin, careful not to hurt her. If her cries of pain were any indication, he wasn't doing a very good job. Her screams turn into softer moans of pain until she doesn't make any sounds at all. Having become desensitized to it by now, she lays defeated against the lab table. Her pallor has improved a bit, a soft pink blush warming up the pools of her cheeks. Her eyes have a little bit of their luster back instead of the dead, dull brown orbs that stared back at him earlier. He moves the hair out of her face that sticks to her forehead and the back of her neck, removing the hair tie from her wrist before pulling her medium length locks into a pony tail.

The coolness on the back of her neck feels like a little piece of Heaven and Malia lets out a little sigh of approval, casting him an appreciate glance. Finally, he had done something right.

Just as the thought hits him, something or should he say someone, hits him even harder. Scott bounds into the room like a blood hound sniffing out a fresh kill and hoists me up in the air by his shirt. Theo's back collides with the glass cabinet, the tiny shards splintering his skin and opening up the wounds Malia had graced him with earlier.

"I saved her life." He stuttered out, quick to defend himself and his face from anymore damage.

Scott hit Theo square in the jaw and knocked the wind out of him, a sickening crunch echoing off the walls of the tiny clinic. The chimera falls to the ground when Scott releases him and rushes over to Malia.

Melissa is in tow, pulling up Malia's shirt before deciding to cut it down the middle when she sees that parts of the fabric have stuck to the exposed flesh. She goes to work applying the different creams Deaton had instructed, a gentleness to her movements that Theo was positive he could never muster even with years of practice.

Scott bends down and cups Malia's face between his large hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks.

"You're okay." He breathes, relief and the aftershocks of terror changing on his face.

Her eyes flutter open. She squints through the disorientation and hears his voice cocooning around her, yet it sounds so far away. And she sees his face, her Scott. His eyes seem warmer than usual. The concern on his face makes her breath get caught in her throat. And the dimples that peek out of his crooked smile hits her like a dream and she realizes that yes... This is it. She is finally home.

"Scott..." She mumbles with a sleepy smile. "Are you real?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey guys, btw the words Lydia said were in Irish. It roughly translates to, "Leave and don't come back. These people are under the protection of the wailing woman. Stay away or perhaps it will be your deaths I predict next!" I really hope you guys liked this chapter. Leave some reviews and critiques! I know there wasn't tons of Scalia in this chapter but I hope to parts I provided were enjoyable and fun to read.


	12. Now Everything's a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Still By Daughter and Fear the Fever By Digital Daggers
> 
> "She was the sound of glass shattering-the sharp ringing in yours ears. The perpetual motion of a spinning ballerina trapped inside a music box. The sad, tinny tune of La Vie en Rose." -She, Lang Leav
> 
> "Scott..." She mumbles with a sleepy smile. "Are you real?"

Scott notices her drowsy state, plucking her face between his thumbs and gently rubbing the skin underneath her eyes. Her eyelids are darkened and dewy, exhaustion evident in the dark circles that runs beneath her lashes. Her honey eyes still sparkle at him though, just another reminder that she is here and that she is safe.

"Yes Lia, I'm here. I'm real-" He says, placing her hand on his cheek. She takes her time exploring his face. Her hand is weak and shaking, but with Scott's guidance, her fingers come to rest on his temple. Her hands slide down, gliding over his features: first his cheek bone, then the ridges of his nose, dropping past his cupid's bow down to his lips, and then testing the firmness of his jaw. An awed 'oh' escapes her pink lips and she swipes her tongue out to wet them. How is this state she still manages to look so devastatingly gorgeous he'll never know.

Scott relaxes into her touch, eyes closed and lips pursed while he enjoys the feeling. He'd been so scared that he'd lost her.

Malia's weak smile still manages to leave him breathless. "You didn't think you'd be able to get rid of me that easily, did you McCall?" She grins.

He rolls his eyes, "Nope, not even a little bit. Besides, I wouldn't have let you leave me. Who else is going to bully me all the time and eat me out of all my popsicles?" He chuckles, reveling in her pouty expression, causing him to laugh even harder. She's so cute when she's irritated.

Malia scoffs, "I don't bully you. I just use my feminine woes to my advantage to get what I want and tell you when you're being a dumb ass. It's the new age way of flirting." She giggles, coughing up blood at the strain it causes on her wound. She turns over her shoulder and assesses Melissa's diligent work, whose pretending to not be listening in on their conversation. By the small smile on her face, she isn't doing a very good job.

She winces when Melissa touches the tender skin with an alcohol swab, causing her to cry out in pain. She murmurs through gritted teeth, "That doesn't look very good, does it?" Her voice trails off and her gaze shifts to her hands.

Those sienna eyes shoot up and capture him in her orbit like the crack of a whip. It's this special sense of neutrality he feels at first-before teetering over the edge of recollection to realize that he has found someone who is so much and means so much that it makes him dizzy in a good way like stars exploding before his eyes. Even on days that Scott's not thinking about it, he knows her name runs rapid through his brain in perpetual motion, a once straight line racing freely in a zig zag path. He doesn't know when she became such a big part of who he is; when he started thinking of her needs before his own, or losing sleep wondering what her last thoughts are before she goes to bed. But now he sits in front of Malia with her head in his hands and her heart thumping lazily against her rib cage. His warmth bleeds through his sweater and provides an internal furnace at her disposal. And for this one small moment that stretches into what feels like hours, all he's thinking is, how did I get so lucky- how did I get so lucky- how did I get so lucky- how did I get so lucky-

How did I get so lucky to be in this moment with you?

Scott runs his fingers through her hair, trying to steer her attention away from the grotesque flesh wound that mars her back. Seeing her in so much pain and the fear in her eyes almost brings him to tears. He lifts her chin until her stubborn eyes meet his. "We're going to fix you, Lia. Just don't look at it, okay? Everything is going to be fine. We're going to patch you up and I'm going to take you home and you can have as many popsicles as you want, okay? I just-I just need you to be okay." He states, exasperated and restless. He wipes the sweat from her clammy forehead, "I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

He can taste her tears that pour like rain against cool asphalt, hard and unforgiving as they splatter to the ground.

She sniffles to mask them. "I don't want to die, Scott."

The room goes quiet. Melissa falters in her task, lazy fingers fumbling with the instruments as they clatter to the steel lab table.

Theo watches from his spot in the corner of the room, completely forgotten for the moment by Scott and Malia.

Her words rattle Scott in a way that couldn't be undone, couldn't be unspoken, and couldn't be forgotten.

Melissa applies a couple hefty bandages to the expanse of Malia's back, blocking the bloody, skewed view of torn skin and tissue surrounded by unapproximated edges. It was a scar before and it will be a scar again, a new set of insecurities being browbeat into her like a mallet hammering them permanently into skin too far resembling stone.

Melissa breaks the silence. "This should hold for at least a week. For right now this is a temporary solution, but I'll need to have her at the hospital to put in some medical binders to help guide the granulating tissue in forming back together and closing the wound. The creams and herbs should help with the pain and swelling." She explains, laying her hand over Malia's cold one and the girl feels the motherly love seeping into her from the simple touch. "Malia, you're welcome to stay at our place for as long as you need. It would be best anyways so I can check to make sure there isn't any infection present over the next couple of days. Do you want me to call anyone, your dad maybe?" She offers, pushing her coiled curly, black hair out of her face and into a pony tail. She sees Malia's hesitance, "It's no problem, sweetie, really. But if you don't want to tell him just yet, that's fine too." She reassures, her gaze kind and warm. Melissa reminds her a lot of her own mom.

"Thank you Ms. McCall, but that won't be necessary. I'll get around to calling him at some point, I just don't want to worry him." She frowns, uncertainty fogging her eyes. "I like to keep him out of all this supernatural business, it's just better this way." She elaborates, eyeing the door like a fire escape.

Deaton walks in, checking in on how she's doing. "So what are you guys going to do with him?" He asks, pointing to Theo sitting cross-legged in the corner of the clinic with a healing jaw and a few scattered lacerations from the glass cabinet he'd been thrown through.

Scott's eyes narrow in distrust, pulling out his phone and looking for his Beta's contact information. "One call to Liam and I'll have him bring Kira's sword over here so we can send him back to Hell where he belongs." He growls, finally finding the name and about to push the call button when Malia latches firmly onto his wrist.

"Scott-" She begins, a look in her eye that Scott immediately recognized as pity.

He huffs, "Malia, you can't be serious-"

She silences him with a stony expression. "Scott, he saved my life. Yes, he put it in danger in the first place by taking me but he brought me back here to help. That has to count for something, right?" She offers, chancing a glance over at Theo and than back at Scott's sour expression.

He scoffs, jealously simmering underneath his skin. Theo always had a thing for Malia back in the day and the feeling of letting him continue to walk around like he's suddenly redeemed doesn't sit well with Scott. "Yeah, it counts as an opportunity for him to try and get into your pants, Malia." He growls in anger, not taking into account what he had said. Malia looks at him like he'd slapped her, her face twisting in hurt and finally blazing with utter disbelief.

"Scott!" Melissa yells, ready to rip her son a new one. She didn't raise him to disrespect women and she isn't going to tolerate the way he is acting.

His face doesn't lose it's scowl until he sees the wall come up around her again, no sight of his Lia anywhere to be found.

Theo smirks at this new development.

He stutters, "Lia, I didn't- I didn't mean that" He says, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "I'm just mad and not thinking clearly. I've been worried about you all day and Theo's the one who took you and now you want to spare him?" He admonishes, frustration lacing his tone as his teeth clench together.

Malia looks at him like he's stupid. "Remember how I told you I'm here to tell you when you're being a dumb ass? Well this is one of those times, Scott. We save people. We give them second chances, and thirds and fourths and fifths. That's what you've called us to do. So why is Theo suddenly an exception?" She questions, throwing him for a loop.

She juts her chin out defiantly, wild hair and rosy cheeks having nothing on her eyes that stare coolly and collected with an air of indifference. With that indifference comes a bleak hardness, leaving Scott with an ache so deep that he feels like he's losing her as he pleads with her to understand. He's mentally gripping onto her, feeling for any kind of recognition. And he's slipping fast like she's made of glass, falling from this precipice one finger at a time.

"He tried to kill me, Malia." He states, believing that once that would have been enough for her to side with him.

She looks away from him and then her gaze follows back. "I know." She acknowledges.

"But-" He adds, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

"But- he tried to save me. If he hadn't brought me here, I'd be dead, Scott. Dead, dead. That would be that and you would be digging a shallow grave, having to plan a funeral and pick out flowers, and think of what would be best to say on my headstone without it sounding too much or too little or just plain ridiculous." She cups his cheeks with her hands, "Scott, without him I would be gone. We owe it to him to give him a chance to explain himself."

Scott's brows furrow into one, the hard countenance never slipping from his face. He grasps both her wrists between his large, strong hands and pulls away from her touch as if she'd burnt him. Malia's face falls at his rejection, seeing that he couldn't move away from her any faster as he puts what feels like a world of space between them. From where she's standing, there's oceans separating them now.

"If you want to give him another chance to kill you then that's on you, but don't expect me to sit around and watch." He laments, pushing away from her and storming towards the door. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to your excuses of why you're choosing him over me."

Malia flushes in anger before her body slumps in exhaustion. She sighs, "I'm not choosing him, Scott." She defends, trying to find anything to get him to stay, to just be her Scott again and stop looking at her like she's betraying him.

His sad smile is easily replaced by a harbored gloom and his eyes are cold to a point where there's no getting through to him now.

"Well you sure aren't choosing me, Malia."

Malia. He mostly just used her full name when he's mad at her.

Malia growls and follows after him, her boots squeaking loud against the tiled floor. She catches up to him outside by his motorcycle with some effort and grabs him by the shoulder and forcibly turns him around to face her. "So you're just going to give up? You make it seem so easy to just walk away from me, Scott, and that's weak. You don't see me throwing a tantrum and storming off." She yells full of aggravation before taking a breath and the anger leaves her in spades. Her body has too much pent up feelings of pain and she didn't want to thrust those upon Scott. Her shoulders relax and her voice softens, "I'm not choosing Theo over you. I want some answers, that's all. I just got you back so can you please stop acting like a jealous idiot and come back inside?" She pleads.

Scott holds his ground, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. "All I need to know is that he hurt you once. That's enough for me to want to send him back to whatever torment he reaped for himself, Malia. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it." He demands, his muscles flexing beneath the thin gray sweater.

She quirks an eyebrow, "You're deflecting. You didn't answer the question. Scott. Are you really jealous of Theo?" She asks, finding the idea completely ridiculous. Has he seen himself? Scott is a rugged Adonis: bronzed, chiseled, and rough around the edges with a hint of danger that makes Malia's mouth run dry when she sees him.

Scott moves into her space, the thin sweater pressing against her top and doing nothing to stop the trail of fire from licking at her skin as his warmth invades her body like a wildfire left unattended. "Should I be?"

His dark, intense gaze pierces hers, his chest rising and falling as he fumes in his spot. Without thinking, his hand unintentionally brushes her inner thigh as his arms swing leisurely at his sides and he stills them when he realizes what he's done. His ears are red-rimmed and a blush flushes his neck a faint pink as it works it way up to his cheeks in slight embarrassment.

The action causes Malia's eyes to drift to the veiny hand that's balled up into a fist at his side before they skim up to the contours of his chest and down the v-line of his hips. His gaze scorches her as he follow her appraisal with a wolfish eyes raking up and down her body as well. She bits her lip, coming back up to meet his gaze before it inevitably falls again to the prominent bulge in his jeans. He shifts around trying to hide it, but Malia doesn't want him to. It's been so long since Malia has had sex and she truly misses the feelings. She misses the curling of her toes, the action of being ravished, and the warmth in her belly when the coil springs free and delicious euphoria washes throughout her body. She weeps for the dominance and hair pulling and spanking fantasies that she's only ever dreamed about. All the boys she's been with had been shamelessly vanilla, occasionally peppering her with a few sprinkles. However, she had a feeling Scott would spoil her with words and his tongue, taking her to the peak of ecstasy as she comes down from her high around him over and over again until she's a quivering mess in his hands on top of his soiled sheets.

All this pent up tension and arguing and chemo signals misting off their bodies is making her horny and aching and she can tell it's doing the same for Scott. But they'd already decided to take things slow, more so for her sake then anything. But would it hurt to get just a little taste...

With the prowess of a vixen, Malia snakes her arms around his neck, her height only falling a couple inches short of his own. Her nose glides up his neck until her warm breath tickles the shell of his ear. "Theo can't get me all worked up like my boy friend does, now can he?" She teases.

He chuckles, a small smile tinging his cheeks, "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, Lia? I thought that was my job and I don't remember asking." He says, playing with her.

Malia growls, "Last time I checked, this is the twenty-first century and feminism lives so you need to get with the program, McCall. Women can make the first move, the only thing is that I'm not asking." She dares, looking up through her lashes at the endearing smile she sees on his face.

He reassures with a wave of his hands, "Oh no no, I'm all for girl power, equality, and all that. Besides, I think it's kind of hot that you aren't afraid to take charge." He beams.

Her lips quirk into a smile, "So you wouldn't care if I walked around with hairy armpits and legs?" She surmises, glancing up to see his reaction, not that she's actually do it.

He grins, "Nah I wouldn't care. Ladies shouldn't feel obligated to shave, they don't have to."

She smirks, "We don't..."

"Free the nipple!" He exclaims.

She giggles, "Free the hairy nipple!" She laughs along with him.

There's still only an inch of space between them and Malia reaches up and pulls him by the collar of his sweater, smashing their lips together hungrily, "It's been too long." She says in a sing-song voice, loving the small growl that leaves his mouth as he cups her cheek with one hand and ferociously clings to her waist with the other. The little nicks at the base of her throat are driving her crazy and Scott senses her sexual frustration blending with his own.

Her tongue laps at his ear lobe and he's a goner, his breath quickening and his arm wraps tighter around her as a groan leaves his full lips.

"Scott..." She mumbles against the sensitive skin, enjoying the hum it makes when she moans.

"M-m-maliaa..." He rasps, knotting his fingers in her hair in order to pull her closer.

She smiles again his throat, "Go talk to Theo, figure out where we're going to keep him for the time being, and then... take me home." She whispers huskily, nipping at the skin there.

His pants are long and strung together like the flying of fingers across piano keys, "Fine. I'll talk to him and see if he can stay with Liam. But if he even thinks about laying a hand on you again..." He says harshly, his sentence falling on an open-ended threat.

"Then I'll kick his ass myself." She finishes, pecking him one more time and swatting his jean-clad bottom, motioning for him to get on with it and go inside while she waits out there by his bike.

He chuckles at her bossiness, but he knows he secretly loves it. With hearts in his eyes, he turns back to face her as he walks backwards towards the clinic's entrance, "You're one hell of a woman, Lia."

She covers her smile with her sleeve, watching him leave, "Don't you forget it, McCall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey guys, so I just want to address something that's been bugging me lately with this story and some of my others. I've put in a lot of effort to get these updates out to you guys which is difficult with my school schedule and assignments and soccer and sometimes it just feels like it's a waste of time when I'm not getting any feedback. I'd really appreciate some detailed critiques/feeback/reviews of what you do and don't like so I know where I should go with the story and what I should stay away from. This was a shorter chapter because I wasn't sure where to go from here without having anyone letting me know what they've thought about the last couple of chapters. Thank you for all those who have reviews or left me a message, your words are appreciated and I want to keep writing this story for you guys. And if you have some time, check out 'Till Forever Runs Out by FlashFics94. Her writing is amazing! Thanks guys, see you at the next update!


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